<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400</id><updated>2012-01-28T01:40:39.769-05:00</updated><category term='Massachusetts'/><category term='North Carolina'/><category term='Oklahoma'/><category term='Washington'/><category term='New York'/><category term='Virginia'/><category term='Tennessee'/><category term='Ohio'/><category term='California'/><category term='Michigan'/><category term='Indiana'/><category term='Florida'/><category term='Texas'/><category term='Connecticut'/><category term='Louisiana'/><category term='New Jersey'/><category term='Maryland'/><category term='Alabama'/><category term='Utah'/><category term='South Carolina'/><category term='Illinois'/><category term='Pennsylvania'/><category term='Wisconsin'/><category term='SEND ME YOUR STORY'/><category term='Kentucky'/><category term='Minnesota'/><category term='Arizona'/><category term='PARANORMAL NEWS'/><category term='Rhode Island'/><category term='Alaska'/><title type='text'>The Scary States of America</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>75</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-4381393231188077493</id><published>2010-02-23T11:34:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T11:40:27.605-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New Jersey'/><title type='text'>Video Ghost</title><content type='html'>Sometimes video cameras or audio recorders can capture the sights or sounds of spirits that can't be seen with your eyes or heard with your ears. Here's one such tale from New Jersey:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi. For safety reasons I won't tell you my name, but I am from New Jersey.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The other day my best friend was sleeping over. We were creating videos on her professional camcorder. When she went to the bathroom, she told me to edit the video.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was going over the footage. You could see me dancing to Lady GaGa's Bad Romance. However, in the background you could kind of see a woman. Her hair was draped over her face, and she was wearing a yellow dress. Just as my best friend started to aim the camera at the dresser the woman disappeared. I ended up never telling my best friend. And she never found out because her camera has an eraser feature where you can draw over any image. When we created our next video, I walked over to where I had seen the woman, and there was a shred of yellow fabric, right there!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Pretty creepy right?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take Care!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Anonymous Jersey girl&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Very creepy! Thanks for sharing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-4381393231188077493?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/4381393231188077493/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=4381393231188077493&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/4381393231188077493'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/4381393231188077493'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2010/02/video-ghost.html' title='Video Ghost'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-1450987631467425891</id><published>2010-02-23T11:22:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T11:30:53.983-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Massachusetts'/><title type='text'>The Captain Who Wouldn't Leave His Ship</title><content type='html'>Everybody knows that Boston is a city filled with history. Well, here's one story about a bit of history that never went away:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Jason,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Hi! Did you know that the ship, Old Ironsides, in Boston is haunted? Well it is. This is my story.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My family and I were in Maine for a family reunion when me and my dad decided we wanted to go to Boston and walk the freedom trail. Nobody else wanted to come so we headed out in our car to Massachusetts.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When we arrived we went to Old Ironsides first. We waited for about an hour until we finally got on the boat. As we continued the tour I wandered a few feet away from the group. We soon got close to the Captain's quarters when I started to feel like I was being watched. Soon I was breathing really fast like I had just run a marathon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly a rustic voice said "Get off my boat!" Then it felt as if someone pushed me towards the stairs. After we got off the boat I asked my dad if he felt anything. He said "No. Why?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"No reason." I replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It still haunts me to this day and you are the first person I've told. Please believe me Jason.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Melanie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;P.S. I love your book!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I believe you. Wow! Sounds like you got more than just the usual souvenir of your visit.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-1450987631467425891?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/1450987631467425891/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=1450987631467425891&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/1450987631467425891'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/1450987631467425891'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2010/02/captain-who-wouldnt-leave-his-ship.html' title='The Captain Who Wouldn&apos;t Leave His Ship'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-4232474840878369272</id><published>2010-02-23T11:14:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2010-02-23T11:20:18.179-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ohio'/><title type='text'>Girl in the Mist</title><content type='html'>Old houses can be fun to visit or even live in. Sometimes, however, previous residents haven't completely moved out...as in this story sent in by Dawson from Ohio:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello, I'm Dawson from Ohio.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My old house was built on the site of a former 1800's school house. During renovation, a young girl's shoe, and an ink well were found.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One winter in 1993 I was home alone when my dogs; Chloe the cocker spaniel and Windsor the German Shepard mix, started growling, as if preparing for a fight. Suddenly, pale mist poured around the room, then a girl appeared from the mist. Surprisingly, I was calm, the girl had black flowing hair and dark, soulless, eyes and a dress that looked like it was the 1800's.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then it was gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents didn't believe me, but I hope you do.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Dawson&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I have said many times, I have no reason not to believe the people who send me stories. Thanks for sharing yours.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-4232474840878369272?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/4232474840878369272/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=4232474840878369272&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/4232474840878369272'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/4232474840878369272'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2010/02/girl-in-mist.html' title='Girl in the Mist'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-73150966963736505</id><published>2009-12-28T15:08:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-12-28T15:17:56.718-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Massachusetts'/><title type='text'>Ghost in the Keyboard</title><content type='html'>Shelby from Massachusetts sent in this tale of an encounter with a ghost that communicated through a computer's keyboard.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey Jason!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;My name is Shelby and I love your website! This is what happened to me on a "normal" Massachusetts evening.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad works with computers. In fact, he is a computer freak! Well I was on my computer and suddenly the screen went black! And boy I was mad! I had worked night and day on a speech for a group I am in. I called my dad and told him what happened.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Just do that and it should work again." he said after telling me what to do. But it didn't. So I sat in a chair in the room and read your book (What a shocker, I never put that thing down). I was just finishing "My House is Bleeding" when...&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Click click click tap tap&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"What the...?" I looked around.&lt;br /&gt;       &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Tap tap click tap&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The keys on the computer were typing something. 'Hello' It said. I was freaking out. "Hi..." I said nervously.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Tap tap click tap click click tap&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;'My name is Emily' It said. 'Do not be afraid I will not hurt you'&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Umm, good to know... Did you live here?" I asked feeling a little better.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Tap tap tap&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;'Yes. Once, but I died of Yellow Fever when I was only twelve.'&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Oh. Sorry to hear that. How do you know how to use the computer?"&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Tap tap click tap click&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;'I have watched you and your family use it. I only trust you though."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;"Okay. Well I invite you to stay with me here. We are a nice family, Emily." I said finally calling the ghost by its name. "See you later. Bye."&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Tap tap click click tap click&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt; &lt;br /&gt;'Thank you for being so welcoming. Take care.'&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I ran downstairs to tell my mom what had just happened. But she won't believe me (I hope you do Jason!). To this day Emily will often visit me. She can tell when I am depressed, angry or happy. She now is like a friend to me. I hope she will never leave me.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Thanks for listening Jason.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Shelby&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for sharing your story, Shelby. Kinda gives a whole new meaning to the term "ghost writing"!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-73150966963736505?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/73150966963736505/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=73150966963736505&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/73150966963736505'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/73150966963736505'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2009/12/ghost-in-keyboard.html' title='Ghost in the Keyboard'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-259149559491383710</id><published>2009-10-08T11:47:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T12:01:37.453-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Illinois'/><title type='text'>My Friend, the Civil War Ghost</title><content type='html'>Mandi from Illinois sent me this story about the time she visited a Civil War battlefield and came home with more than just a history lesson.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This all started in May of 2009.  My dad brought me to Washington DC for the police memorial. I was studying the Civil War in history class and so before we left, we went to Manassas Battlefield (site of the famous battles of Bull Run). Anyone who has been there knows that there is a well-known field house there. Anyway, people aren’t allowed into the field house, but you can look in the windows. So that is exactly what I did. When I looked into the window, I saw a man in all gray, pacing. I quickly stepped away from the window and walked back to my dad’s car. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary for a while after that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I went to a summer camp in late June, I kept getting weird dreams about the field house. On the last night I had a dream that I was back at the field house... but this time I was IN the field house. I figured that it was directly after the First or Second Battle Of Bull Run. There were Confederate soldiers with blood on them, some were missing limbs. No one paid attention to me, except for one soldier. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He had brown eyes and light brown shaggy hair, he also had a scar going across his face. He looked at me and said, “This is only the beginning.” I assumed he was from Tennessee from his accent, he grabbed my shoulders and ran through me. I woke up in a cold sweat back at the summer camp, I sat up and read the clock, it said 3 am and everyone was asleep. I laid back down and let out a sigh ‘It was only a dream’ I thought. I looked around one more time to see if I had woken anyone up, and the same Confederate soldier that talked to me in my dream was standing next to my bed, looking at me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I could scream he put his hand over my mouth. I could smell the gun powder, and he shushed me and told me “I won’t hurt you.” I blacked out after that. I didn’t eat much that morning... everything smelled like gunpowder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not that long after I came home from the summer camp I had another dream. The Confederate soldier kept saying he wouldn’t hurt me. He also confirmed that he was from Tennessee.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In late July, my parents, two sisters and I drove down to Florida. We were at a gas station in Tennessee early in the morning, I was walking around the perimeter of the gas station while everyone else was inside going to the bathroom. I was behind the gas station when I felt a rough hand grab my shoulder, I balled up my fist and spun around, trying to punch whoever grabbed my shoulder, but my hand went through air. The same Confederate soldier was smiling and laughing at my reaction “What do you want?” I hissed at him. He laughed some more, and I couldn’t help but smile for a second. He stopped laughing and said “I want to welcome you to my home... and give you this.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He handed me my phone charger, which, I realized, I had left still plugged into my wall, “Thank you.” I said, and he laughed some more. My mom started calling my name, and he disappeared. Throughout my entire week in Florida, the soldier would show up and tell me stuff about the Civil War. When my dad, my friend (she and her family had joined us on the trip) and I went into the war museum, we stopped by the Civil War section. I felt a rough hand on my back and I could see a faint outline of the soldier pointing at some pictures and other artifacts from the Confederate army. He was talking, but I couldn’t hear him. Finally he pointed to a Confederate uniform and I could lip-read what he said, “That was mine.” I almost fainted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He still talks to me, and teaches me about the Civil War. I'm not afraid. I definitely don’t want him leaving anytime soon.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks Mandi. Gee, I've heard of history coming alive, but this is truly amazing.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-259149559491383710?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/259149559491383710/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=259149559491383710&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/259149559491383710'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/259149559491383710'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2009/10/civil-war-ghost-still-haunts-today.html' title='My Friend, the Civil War Ghost'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-7942425477713469173</id><published>2009-10-08T11:31:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-08T11:45:13.919-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ohio'/><title type='text'>The Ghost Wears White Pants</title><content type='html'>Sylvia from Ohio sent me this story about a ghost who likes white...not as in a white sheet you might wear at Halloween, but white pants and shoes and--well, read on..&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, Jason!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My name is Sylvia. I'm 14 and live in Ohio. I read your book over the summer and loved it..I also visited your site many times. Some of the stories you have posted are amazing..I always wanted to share a true ghost story..And after what happened to me the other day..I think I can.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week my friend Katie and I decided to go biking so we could catch up on the latest news at each other's high schools. We live in the same neighborhood and always meet at this little circle of grass in the middle of a road where our neighborhood has its annual 4th of July/Bike parade. Since it was September the little area was completely abandoned. I got there by bike and decided to sit down and wait for Katie to show up. While I sat I wasn't doing anything besides playing with the laces on my shoes...But then I heard a crow overhead and things became weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was still sitting there when I heard a voice call, "Hey! Sylvia! Hey-I'm here!" So I looked around, but didn't see anyone. I called out, but no one answered...So I figured it was my imagination. I went back to playing with my shoelaces when I saw a pair of white tennis shoes right in front of me. Whoever was standing there also had slightly grass-stained white pants. I could tell that they were boy's shoes, so the first words out of my mouth were, "Braddy! Braddy! What're you doing here!?" Braddy was my good guy friend who also lived in the neighborhood. I assumed he had biked up to the little park area and came to say hi. But when I looked up..there was no one there. I looked around but there was nothing there and it was dead silent..But then I heard some laughter right in my ear. I turned around, but all I saw was a flash of white and gold. I was very freaked out now, but I decided to wait for Katie, who showed up a moment later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I didn't say anything to Katie as we biked and talked because I didn't want to freak her out. For the next half hour everything was normal..Then we decided to bike to our old middle school and sit on the swings to talk. When we got there we looked around and there was no one there. So we sat down and began to talk. That's when it happened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We heard a faint voice yell, "Hey, Katie! Hey, Sylvia! I'm here!" We both froze and looked around. There it was...the flash of white and gold and the odd laughter. We both looked at each other and laughed nervously. "Wow..The voices in our heads are being tricky, huh?" Katie asked with a fearful smile.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yup...Silly little voices..Our eyes must be going weird too.." I replied.&lt;br /&gt;"Yeah, you're right." Katie nodded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We tried to push the voice aside and tried to act like nothing had happened. I didn't tell Katie it was the same voice that I had heard earlier. We went back to talking and laughing and then...that voice came back saying, "Katie? Katie?" Katie looked up and glared at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Very funny, Sylvia. Imitating that voice."&lt;br /&gt;"Katie," I began, trembling, "That wasn't me..."&lt;br /&gt;But Katie wasn't looking at me...She was staring past my shoulder in wide-eyed shock. "Syl...Turn around." She whispered. "He's here.."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned around and saw a brief glance of white pants and white tennis shoes..My eyes flicked up so fast, but I only caught a glimpse of golden-honey like hair. Then whoever it was vanished...and laughter trailed behind.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Please tell me you saw that!" Katie cried when I turned around.&lt;br /&gt;"Saw...White..And gold like honey-ish.." My words came out in a meaningless ramble.&lt;br /&gt;"YES!" Katie yelled. "Tall? White pants? White shoes? White shirt! Eyes were blueish..Kinda tall..Who was he?"&lt;br /&gt;"Yes! I saw him earlier!" I gasped, scanning the field for this being. "He kept saying my name..But I didn't want to tell you 'cause you'd think I was crazy!"&lt;br /&gt;"Well.." Katie began. "You aren't crazy! We both saw him--or it! Sylvia, that wasn't some kid we know...That was a ghost. I saw his face..Trust me..Not alive. And now..we're being haunted!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stared at her and slowly nodded. Without a second thought we ran, grabbed our bikes, and hurried home..Laughter trailed behind us, but we weren't laughing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's my story, Jason. Hope you enjoyed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks, Sylvia. I did enjoy. Maybe that ghost was just looking for a few tips on his wardrobe! After all, who wears white after Labor Day :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-7942425477713469173?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/7942425477713469173/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=7942425477713469173&amp;isPopup=true' title='5 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/7942425477713469173'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/7942425477713469173'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2009/10/ghost-wears-white-pants.html' title='The Ghost Wears White Pants'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>5</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-5759243127222649436</id><published>2009-09-04T07:56:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-09-04T08:05:18.165-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Virginia'/><title type='text'>TFF (Telepathic Friends Forever)</title><content type='html'>Tristan from Virginia sent me this tale of a dream she had at camp about her best friend. Not unusual, right? But what happened next...well, read on, friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi Jason. My name is Tristan and I live in Virginia. I'm a normal twelve-year-old girl. But I had a REALLY weird experience last week when I went to camp. I believe I had telepathic communication with my best friend.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so I was at camp for the week. You know, campfire, cabins, pranks, counselors, mess hall, the whole thing. Well, on Monday night I had a dream that was SO vivid, it was kinda like I was there! It started with me and my friend's sister in their kitchen. (both of them are my friends) and we were in front of the stove, mixing something in a big bowl. I told her something, and, in the EXACT same way she does when I'm actually with her, she said "good" and turned around and left. Then her brother- my best friend- came up the steps in a plaid fox hat, and his green fox t-shirt and we started talking. I woke up in my bunk, a little dazed the next morning. I decided it was just because I missed them that I had the dream. So I forgot about the whole thing....until wednesday night at the campfire. I felt a throbbing pain, as if I'd been smacked on part of my head. I just shrugged that off, too. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I got back home the next day, I told my friend's sister what happened, describing everything.  "What did you say he was wearing in your dream? " she asked me when I was done. I repeated the dream. "That's what he wore on Tuesday!"  she said, her eyes wide. "And I smacked him on Wednesday night, too. Around the time you described! And I thought I heard you walking around upstairs!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I think, we think, we MAY be telepathic. Nobody believes me! Not my parents and almost none of my friends believe me, either. You believe me, don't you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You bet, Tristan. Like you, I'm wide open to the possibilities that weird stuff happens out there. Thanks for sharing this!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-5759243127222649436?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/5759243127222649436/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=5759243127222649436&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/5759243127222649436'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/5759243127222649436'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2009/09/tff-telepathic-friends-forever.html' title='TFF (Telepathic Friends Forever)'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-4064211039026273160</id><published>2009-05-19T11:30:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-05-19T11:38:48.847-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ohio'/><title type='text'>Ghost in the Basement</title><content type='html'>Sara from Ohio sent me this tale of what she encountered when she went downstairs to do something that's terrifying to everyone--clean her basement!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jason, &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the story. We just moved into a big brick house that was pretty old. A lot of people lived here and left all kinds of furniture and junk in our basement. I guess my parents thought I looked bored because they asked me to start cleaning it out. I really didn't want to clean at the moment but I had nothing else to do.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started down the carved, creaky, wooden stairs. It was hard to find the light switch because it was at the bottom of the steps. A few minutes later, I was looking through papers when I heard a loud CRASH! I looked behind me to see that all of the organized stacks of papers I just stacked on a shelf were scattered on the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was very angry. I worked hard for hours!!! Whoever it was, was going to pay!!! Too bad I didn't know I was dealing with a ghost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I decided to forget what happened. But when I turned back to the papers, they were gone! I started looking everywhere. Under boxes, behind chairs, but when I looked behind an old rocking chair I heard a low angry voice say "OUT, GET OUT!!!!'&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was terrified. I ran upstairs and explained everything to my parents who, of course, didn't believe me. I made them follow me to the basement but when we all got down their, everything was neat and organized, as if nothing had happened!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sara&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for the story, Sara. So what have we learned? Never clean your basement!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-4064211039026273160?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/4064211039026273160/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=4064211039026273160&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/4064211039026273160'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/4064211039026273160'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2009/05/ghost-in-basement.html' title='Ghost in the Basement'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-4582665355775664879</id><published>2009-02-08T09:02:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-06T14:41:24.950-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Wisconsin'/><title type='text'>Ghost in the Snow</title><content type='html'>Sue from Wisconsin sent me this story about driving on a snowy night. When she came to an intersection, she encountered more than just a stop sign!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi, I'm Sue from Wisconsin and I noticed you had no stories from here, so I thought I'd send you mine. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I was driving home one night while a blizzard was going on.  I was pretty worried about getting home, so I drove very carefully. I was out in the country, but lived in the city, and so I was ESPECIALLY careful as I did not want to slide into a ditch or get stuck in the middle of nowhere.  Even though it was dark, the sky was bright because of the heavy snow falling.  Slowly, I was approaching an intersection of 3 roads.  This was a dangerous intersection even on a sunny day, so I slowed down even more.  As I was squinting my eyes, trying to see the stop sign to see exactly where to stop, I saw the outline of a man in what looked to be a snowmobile suit, raising his arms up and down, signaling for me to slow down or stop.  I got the distinct feeling there must have been an accident or that he was stuck.  The only thing at this intersection was an old house, a church, a tavern and a little cemetery.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I slowed the car down just before this intersection so it would not get hit by another car, but my worst fear came true, the car began to slide down into the ditch.  I was scared.  I put the car in park, got out and ran to the intersection in the blizzard to find this guy because now he would need to help ME.  When I got there, the silence was eerie, the snow was falling ferociously and there was no man in the intersection.  I thought if I looked for his footprints in the snow, I could find where he went and get help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THERE WERE NO FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just me, the cemetery and the snow falling.  By this time, I was really scared because I was alone, out in the country, and how would I get help getting out of the ditch?  What a mean mean trick to play on me.  Why would someone play such a dangerous trick on an unknowing stranger?  I was so mad. I charged back to my car and somehow, in my anger, I rocked the car to-and-fro, and I did get it out of the ditch, proceeded through that intersection and on to home.  I carried this anger around for a long long time.  I could have frozen to death!  All at the cost of someone playing a trick.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Speed ahead about 5 years to a beautiful sunny warm day at this same intersection, where an open house in the little church was on this day because it was turned into a historical society and there were tours in the cemetery.  I decided to go there.  I walked up to the front door of the church and pasted on the door was a few news articles.  I read the titles. One said: "GHOST PLAYS WITH TRAFFIC AT INTERSECTION" and another said: "PLATES THROWN BY A GHOST."  Well guess what....it was about this same intersection where I had my mishap 5 years earlier.  The article went on to say that the ghost would throw plates and glasses in the tavern when no one was around and run to the intersection and play with traffic, going back and forth from the church to the tavern.  After reading that, a chill went up my spine.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I had seen a ghost!  And for 5 years, I never knew it and was angry at a ghost!  Up to that point in my life, I was pretty much not a believer, but not any more. Still, I'd like to find him and ask him why he did that to me.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Sue&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for adding the scary state of Wisconsin to our list, Sue. Glad you made it home safely that night, despite your ghostly encounter!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-4582665355775664879?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/4582665355775664879/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=4582665355775664879&amp;isPopup=true' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/4582665355775664879'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/4582665355775664879'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2009/02/ghost-in-snow.html' title='Ghost in the Snow'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-8359472485344543305</id><published>2009-02-06T18:53:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T09:23:27.667-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Indiana'/><title type='text'>The Box Under the Floor</title><content type='html'>Terry from Florida sent me this tale which took place when he was a boy in Indiana. It involves another boy who used to live in his house but died, then sent Terry a message from beyond...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My family moved to a small town in northern Indiana, into a large house where I got my own room. I was 15.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It started a few weeks after we had moved in. it was late and I was in bed ...really half asleep when I heard my closet door open. I quickly turned on the light and sure enough it was open. I just dismissed it and went to sleep . I truly did not give it a second thought until a few nights later it happened again but this time I was awake reading and watched the door slowly open. Ok now I freaked. But the rest of the family was sleeping. I didn't want to wake them and freak all of them too. So I just laid down on the couch. That is where my Dad found me the next morning. When I told him what was going on he just sort of laughed at me and told me it was probably just the air conditioning kicking on ..and causing a vacuum which caused the door to swing open. He said he would get to fixing the latch. I believed him.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So this went on for a while, the closet door just swinging open. Until one of the neighbors told me that the family that lived in the house before us had lost a son in a train accident two years before we had moved in. The boy had been in his senior year of high school--the same one I would be going to that September. I also learned that I was living in his old room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now I was either letting my imagination running away with me or I was tuning into something but I got it in my head that it was his ghost who was opening the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It kept happening, and strangely I got use to it ...until it was waking me up more frequently and I had school in the morning and was losing sleep so one night , that last night when it happened again ....I was mad ....and I said out loud ... I said his name ..... and told him he was dead .... he got hit by a train .... and he should go to heaven. The door never opened on it's own again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now for the really strange part ..... I started thinking about the closet door two or three weeks later ... if it was this kid's ghost, why was he opening the closet ... so I got out of bed one night ... turned on the light ... and looked in my closet. I moved my shoes and some boxes that were still unpacked from the move and peeled back the carpet. When I did that a section of the floor board popped up and hidden in the floor board was a cigar box. Inside of it was a bunch of stuff ...really nothing valuable, just things a guy would save, an old watch, a buck knife, pictures of friends and family and some cards and letters, just stuff. I just knew what to do with them. I put the box in a paper lunch sack and took it to school with me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew from others that the younger sister of the boy that was killed was in my class. At lunch I went over to her. She was sitting with her friends and I told her who I was ....and after a strange look I let her know that I was living in her old home ... and had her late brother's old room and found something that I think belonged to him hidden in the closet of the bedroom. I slowly pulled the cigar box out of the bag and handed to her she smiled when she saw it and slowly opened it. A few tears came to her eyes..she thanked me as her girl friends comforted her, and I left.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A week later her mother came up to me as I was walking home. Her daughter had pointed me out, and she thanked me too ...and gave me the buck knife from the box as a reward ...I tried to say no but she was tearing up and I smiled and said thank you.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's been over 30 years and I still have that Buck knife. I never told either of them that it was their son and brother that showed me where the secret box was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's it ...Not scary but a real Ghost Story&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Terry&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And a really touching one, too. You were very kind and I'm sure the mother, the sister, and, in his own way, the boy, appreciated your kindness. Thanks for sharing this one.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-8359472485344543305?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/8359472485344543305/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=8359472485344543305&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/8359472485344543305'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/8359472485344543305'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2009/02/box-under-floor.html' title='The Box Under the Floor'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-7247966062204986397</id><published>2009-02-06T16:42:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T17:18:19.604-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Utah'/><title type='text'>The Haunted Car Crash</title><content type='html'>Karen from Utah sent me this chilling tale about the day she saw an accident on the road. The only problem--five minutes later, it wasn't there anymore. 15 years later, the same thing happened again! The story is long, but well worth it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi Jason:&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I love your blog! Thanks for your hard work and dedication.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I would like to share an incident that happened to my brother and sister-in-law nearly 30 years ago.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was a spring evening, just at dusk, it had been raining lightly and the road was wet and the surrounding area slightly misty.They were headed to Salt Lake from Layton Utah, about 30 miles north of Salt Lake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As they drove along the divided highway, two cars ahead of them came together in a horrible crash! They both witnessed the flying debris and watched as one car flipped and rolled several times finally landing on it's top. My sister-in-law screamed and my brother swerved to miss it. He sped ahead trying to find a spot to turn around to go back and help. He was an undercover narcotics officer so he called for the local Highway Patrol. He found a spot to turn around, placed his light on top of his car and raced back to the scene. They were sure someone had died in this horrible accident. Coming to the spot where it occurred they found nothing! No debris, no car, no skid marks, nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Highway Patrol Officer showed up and thought maybe he was the brunt of some kind of sick joke. They were both shaking and upset. My brother exited from the car and walked half a mile along the road looking for some sign. There was nothing. They were freaked out to say the least. As they discussed what they had both seen, it was identical, however, they came to realize there was no sound involved. If this horrific accident had happened right in front of them they would have heard something. But there had been no sound.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;For a long time they refused to travel this stretch of highway. They weren't sure what they had seen, if it had  been a premonition of things to come or what. Fast forward 15 years or so. My husband, who was a state trooper, received a call one morning while on duty, that his father was gravely ill. He stopped to pick me up as we rushed to Salt Lake and the hospital. We spent the day. Things calmed down and my father-in-law was stabilized, so by late afternoon we could head back home. It was a spring evening, it had been raining, and was still misty outside. Over my husband's police radio came a call that a girl had witnessed a horrific accident and gave the approximate area of where the accident took place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One of the other troopers sped off in search of the crash. A few minutes later the trooper returned to the radio and told the dispatcher he had been to the area three times but found nothing. At that point I said to my husband "he's sure having a hard time finding that accident isn't he?" We both had these funny expressions on our faces when we realized it was in the exact area my brother had also seen the accident. The trooper on the radio continued to say he had been back three times, and there was nothing to indicate there had been an accident anywhere. He wanted to know if someone was playing a joke on them. The dispatcher assured him the young woman was serious, she was very distraught as she was certain that someone had been killed in the accident. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I always have a strange sensation when I drive past the area. I'm sure there was an accident at some time right there. And now, years later, when conditions are right, whoever is there gets to witness it again.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Karen&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yikes! Thanks for the story, Karen. Talk about bad "Car-ma!" Very creepy indeed!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-7247966062204986397?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/7247966062204986397/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=7247966062204986397&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/7247966062204986397'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/7247966062204986397'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2009/02/haunted-car-crash.html' title='The Haunted Car Crash'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-5244378612931637551</id><published>2009-02-06T16:36:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2009-02-06T16:49:07.725-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Florida'/><title type='text'>The Butt-Pinching Ghost of Florida!</title><content type='html'>Now I've heard stories about ghosts that were scary, ghosts that were sad, and ghosts that were helpful. But Laura shared a story about a ghost in Florida that was downright RUDE!!! Check it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My sister has told me several times about a ghost in her house in St. Petersburg,  Florida.   She told me this ghost would pinch her butt as she washed dishes.  Although I am a believer, I did kind of think her love of Stephen King books was fueling her imagination.  One day shortly after Christmas I went over to her house to see what the children got from Santa.  As I was standing in her son’s room, with my back to a wide open closet, I was talking when I felt something pinching my rear-end very hard. I gasped and turned around, assuming my nephew was just being silly, but no one was there! I looked at my sis and said “I just got pinched!” she said “See, I told you!”  I really was shocked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Laura&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for sharing that one, Laura. Wow! What's next? A ghost who gives wedgies? Not that I'm trying to give anyone any ideas or anything!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-5244378612931637551?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/5244378612931637551/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=5244378612931637551&amp;isPopup=true' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/5244378612931637551'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/5244378612931637551'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2009/02/butt-pinching-ghost-of-florida.html' title='The Butt-Pinching Ghost of Florida!'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-6292953311324291308</id><published>2008-12-31T10:06:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T10:14:34.372-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Illinois'/><title type='text'>Grandpa's Spirit</title><content type='html'>Mandi from Illinois sent in this story about what happened after her grandfather died. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi, I am Mandi. I have always believed in the paranormal (sometimes)... but now that I had a real life experience, i believe in it more...&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Well this all started the day before my grandpa died. He was in the hospital. On February 3rd he died. That night, I had woken up at 3 am in a cold sweat, I started to sob uncontrollably.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;That morning, my mom got a call from the hospital and had to go there. When she came back, she told me and my sisters that my grandfather had died at about 3 am! I was really creeped out, but that doesn't compare to what happened when I went to my room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I entered, I saw my grandpa there! He was staring at me, as I went closer, he said "I will always be looking out for you." Ok RRREEEAAALLLYYY creepy... he disappeared before I could touch him. Anyway, when I woke up in the morning the next day, I heard a cardinal. Ok nothing weird about that, but my older sister was blasting her radio and my little sister was blasting the TV. I could still hear the cardinal. It swooped down from the tree it was on and landed on a little perch on the outside of my window. IT WASN'T AFRAID OF ME!!!! Then the cardinal followed me &amp; (in my opinion) kept me safe. The cardinal is still with me today. And, unlike most birds, the cardinal sings at night... &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some people might think that your story is for the birds...but not me! Thanks for sharing it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-6292953311324291308?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/6292953311324291308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=6292953311324291308&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/6292953311324291308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/6292953311324291308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/12/grandpas-spirit.html' title='Grandpa&apos;s Spirit'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-5904569967746598155</id><published>2008-12-31T09:59:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T10:05:25.143-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Michigan'/><title type='text'>Crop Circle Mystery</title><content type='html'>Paige from Michigan sent me this tale of a crop circle no one could fully explain.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The background:&lt;br /&gt;In July 2003, a farmer found crop circles in his field about fifty miles south of Hemlock, in Livingston County near Howell, Michigan. There were no tracks or paths leading to the crop circles. The first circle was only four feet across, but the second circle was fifty feet in diameter and had two extensions leading off like spurs at the east and west points. An investigator said this formation was unusual in his report because there were four additional circles at the north, south, east, and west points on the larger circle, layered UNDER the circle. There was intricate weaving and braiding of the grain stalks and the director of the Independent Crop Circle Researchers' Association, said he found at least twenty stems that were exposed to a complex energy burst like what happened in your book. Two radio personalities in Howell said they created the circles but it was unlikely, the investigators said, that they could have microwaved the field somehow.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;My story:&lt;br /&gt;I'm 17 and I swear I'm not crazy or a hoaxer. I was visiting my sister in Howell in July, 2003 and I spent the night there. I was in bed and I was looking out the window when I saw 6 or 7 white lights in a boomerang formation. I went to sleep and when I woke up I went downstairs and my family told me some crop circles showed up that night. I would later see more UFOs and some alien incidents have happened to me which makes me wonder if it's a coincidence it happened the same night I was spending the night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sounds like you've found a real paranormal hot spot, Paige! Thanks for filling us in.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-5904569967746598155?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/5904569967746598155/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=5904569967746598155&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/5904569967746598155'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/5904569967746598155'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/12/crop-circle-mystery.html' title='Crop Circle Mystery'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-4952461916333399010</id><published>2008-12-31T09:51:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2009-10-07T13:23:38.998-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pennsylvania'/><title type='text'>Demon House</title><content type='html'>Here's a story from Pennsylvania about a house rental that didn't quite work out as planned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;First off I'd like to say if you put this on your site, which I give you full permission to do, I only ask that you keep my name a secret for my own safety...&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;My family and I rented this house in Pennsylvania. It was fairly cheap, and at the time we thought nothing of it. Well, as we were moving in we found that the basement door was locked and we didn't have a key, so being the curious people we are, we knocked the door down.. only to find that downstairs was an area on the wall painted over with black paint. So we put all of our extra stuff down there and thought nothing of the paint on the wall... but we should have.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Things started out small and we figured it was just an old house, right? Wrong. As time went on "it" as we called it got madder and madder at us... it began to shake everything violently and flick light switches, even call out our names at night, trying to lure us to the basement. We began to get frightened but thought paranormal teams wouldn't believe us. So we got an Ouija board and began to ask "it" questions, first we asked "is there some presence in this house?" it replied "Y-E-S" so next we asked "what is your name?" and it replied "S-E-T-H" so we asked Seth when he was alive, and what we got shocked us--Seth replied "N-E-V-E-R". As it turns out, Seth was a demon... we very quickly boarded up the basement and paid our last rent payment and moved out... never to return to that house again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for listening, and I hope you put my story up on the site.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you. Sounds like moving out was the right move!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-4952461916333399010?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/4952461916333399010/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=4952461916333399010&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/4952461916333399010'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/4952461916333399010'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/12/demon-house.html' title='Demon House'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-2247117656839293899</id><published>2008-12-31T09:43:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-31T09:46:05.150-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New York'/><title type='text'>Headless Axeman</title><content type='html'>Ian from New York sent me this story of a guy with an axe who lost his head...literally!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey Jason,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have I got a story for you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, once when I was like 7 years old, I was in my room one night in the cabin that my family owns in the Catskill mountains. I woke up in the middle of the night to a sharpening axe sound. I stared up from my bed, just to see a glowing white body holding an axe in a swinging position. But there was something weird about this guy. He was headless!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to scream for help, but I was paralyzed by fear. That guy started to swing the axe. I braced for impact. But then the axe guy just disappeared, leaving a glowing residue of some kind of ectoplasm on the floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I did some research and it turns out there was this guy named Jacob Alexandra back in the 1800s who was a traveling lumberjack. He fell in love with a woman named Eliza Jones. Eliza moved away because she was engaged to a banker who lived out in the western United States. Jacob was never the same after that. One day, he was cutting down a tree in the forest when he accidentally missed the tree and cut his own head off with the axe.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was totally freaked out. How about you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely,&lt;br /&gt;Ian&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am certainly freaked out, and I'm guessing Jacob was too!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-2247117656839293899?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/2247117656839293899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=2247117656839293899&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2247117656839293899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2247117656839293899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/12/headless-axeman.html' title='Headless Axeman'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-7401387561822325761</id><published>2008-12-10T15:52:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-12-10T15:57:04.385-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PARANORMAL NEWS'/><title type='text'>Scary States on YouTube!</title><content type='html'>Hey Scary States Fans,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scary States author Michael Teitelbaum has posted two videos on YouTube. In each one he reads a condensed version of one of the stories from the book. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check out:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1-ZE0Euz5ZQ "&gt;ARKANSAS&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;and&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pf34aOJGWqA"&gt;MICHIGAN&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A scary treat for the ears...but not for the faint of heart!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-7401387561822325761?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/7401387561822325761/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=7401387561822325761&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/7401387561822325761'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/7401387561822325761'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/12/scary-states-on-youtube.html' title='Scary States on YouTube!'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-2612547986250667051</id><published>2008-10-27T14:57:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T15:07:20.205-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PARANORMAL NEWS'/><title type='text'>Footage of a UFO in Texas!</title><content type='html'>Hey Fellow Sky Watchers,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Earlier this year it was Stephenville, Texas. Now many folks in the town of Dublin, Texas have spotted unidentified lights in the sky. And one quick-thinking citizen captured it on video.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Take a look:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.cnn.com/video/#/video/us/2008/10/25/pkg.tx.more.ufo.sightings.wfaa"&gt;UFO VIDEO&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you know what those lights are? I don't. Thus the "U" in UFO.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep watching the sky! (At night, of course)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jason&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-2612547986250667051?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/2612547986250667051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=2612547986250667051&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2612547986250667051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2612547986250667051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/10/footage-of-ufo-in-texas.html' title='Footage of a UFO in Texas!'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-84755613611956722</id><published>2008-10-02T13:14:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-02T13:22:51.496-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Utah'/><title type='text'>Sleepwalker or Hijacked Body?</title><content type='html'>Tanner from Utah sent me this creeped-out tale about something that happened when she was 4 years old to her and her two sisters.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jason--&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was about 4 we lived in a huge house in a small town. That house had a record of being haunted. Things would turn on and off and there would be weird noises. One night my two sisters were sleeping in the same room. My sister Cam (not quite asleep) bolted upright because she heard something on the ground. She woke up my sister Shay. Shay looked on the ground by her side of the bed, and she saw me! She said later that I was just laying there smiling up at her. She told me to go back to bed, but when she turned on the light, I had vanished! I wasn't there anymore! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thing is, I don't think I ever left my bed! So either I have a weird power where I can move instantly to different places or a ghost or something took the form of my body and appeared there in the middle of the night. I don't know why this happened but it sure is weird!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Tanner&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ps. I've read your book 3 times!! It was great!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks, Tanner, for sharing that story. Here's hoping that these days you stay put through the night.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-84755613611956722?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/84755613611956722/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=84755613611956722&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/84755613611956722'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/84755613611956722'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/10/sleepwalking-or-hijacked-body.html' title='Sleepwalker or Hijacked Body?'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-7395485392776119746</id><published>2008-09-11T08:59:00.014-05:00</published><updated>2008-09-11T11:22:20.461-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PARANORMAL NEWS'/><title type='text'>Scary States and Encyclopedia Horrifica Team Up to Find the New Jersey Devil!</title><content type='html'>Hey fans of the frightful, the weird, and all things paranormal!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On Sunday September 28, Michael Teitelbaum, the children's book author who helped bring &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The Scary States of America&lt;/span&gt; to print will be teaming up with Joshua Gee, the author of the amazing &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Encyclopedia Horrifica&lt;/span&gt; for a fight-filled appearance at the Crane-Phillips House in Cranford, New Jersey. For all the details click &lt;a href="http://joshuagee.com/Home_Page/web-content/about/cranford.html"&gt;here&lt;/a&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Both authors will be exploring the history of the cryptid known as the New Jersey Devil. Myth? Legend? Or real life creature? Find out at this event. For those you unfamiliar with the New Jersey Devil (and no, we're not talking about hockey here) you can check out the New Jersey story in &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Scary-States-America-Michael-Teitelbaum/dp/0385733313/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/002-4522163-9307261?ie=UTF8&amp;s=books&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;qid=1185206375&amp;sr=1-1"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The Scary States of America&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And be sure to check out Joshua's terrifically terrifying &lt;a href="http://www.joshuagee.com/Home_Page/web-content/index.html"&gt;website&lt;/a&gt;, and of course his fear-filled, fact-packed book, &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Encyclopedia-Horrifica-Terrifying-Vampires-Monsters/dp/0439922550?ie=UTF8&amp;s=books&amp;qid=1183860380&amp;sr=1-1"&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Encyclopedia Horrifca&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope to scare, I mean, see you there!&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-7395485392776119746?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/7395485392776119746/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=7395485392776119746&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/7395485392776119746'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/7395485392776119746'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/09/scary-states-and-encyclopedia-horrifica.html' title='Scary States and Encyclopedia Horrifica Team Up to Find the New Jersey Devil!'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-8813733139579505257</id><published>2008-08-19T11:38:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-19T11:42:55.527-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Tennessee'/><title type='text'>Bigfoot is Watching You</title><content type='html'>Here's a story sent to me by Ryan from Tennessee about the time he saw Bigfoot in his hotel room. Talk about room service you could do without!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey Jason,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was nine years old and I was with my parents and 4-year-old sister at a hotel in  Tennessee. I was about to go to bed when I looked at the door and saw something that looked like Bigfoot walk through the wall and look at me. It stood there for a few minutes. Then it walked through the other wall. I tried to convince myself that it did not happen and went to sleep. At about midnight a loud noise woke me up. When I looked to see what it was I saw the creature at the end of my bed. It scared me so bad I blacked out. When I woke up I noticed something written on a piece of paper. It said "I will always try to protect you, Ryan". Since then I keep searching for whatever wrote that.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ryan from Tennessee&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;While it's nice to have someone bigger than you looking out for you, I'm not sure I'd choose Bigfoot for my protector. Who's going to protect you from him!?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-8813733139579505257?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/8813733139579505257/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=8813733139579505257&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/8813733139579505257'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/8813733139579505257'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/08/bigfoot-is-watching-you.html' title='Bigfoot is Watching You'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-853408084349854426</id><published>2008-08-04T11:18:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-08-04T11:25:08.313-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PARANORMAL NEWS'/><title type='text'>The Montauk Monster</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp1.blogger.com/_IBAfFuY4XhQ/SJctTN7sFDI/AAAAAAAAAA0/0Hqxth6M7SU/s1600-h/MONTAUK+MONSTER.JPG"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp1.blogger.com/_IBAfFuY4XhQ/SJctTN7sFDI/AAAAAAAAAA0/0Hqxth6M7SU/s320/MONTAUK+MONSTER.JPG" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5230699300394898482" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay cryptid fans, check this out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last week something washed up on the beach at Montauk on Long Island in New York State. Some say it's a monster. Others have said it's nothing more than a raccoon. What do you think? Here it is--The Montauk Monster, 2008's (so far) cryptid of the year!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stuff like this just makes my summer!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jason&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-853408084349854426?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/853408084349854426/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=853408084349854426&amp;isPopup=true' title='52 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/853408084349854426'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/853408084349854426'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/08/montauk-monster.html' title='The Montauk Monster'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp1.blogger.com/_IBAfFuY4XhQ/SJctTN7sFDI/AAAAAAAAAA0/0Hqxth6M7SU/s72-c/MONTAUK+MONSTER.JPG' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>52</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-6041786250057230350</id><published>2008-07-02T11:22:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-07-02T11:39:28.670-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Washington'/><title type='text'>Living in a Haunted House</title><content type='html'>I've gotten lots of stories from people who have experienced one haunted event. Here's a tale sent in by Mitchell about the time he and his family lived in a haunted house in Washington State. Check it out:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When me and my family lived in Washington, the house we lived in was haunted. We all had things happen to us there, but we never really talked about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One time my mom got home late from work at around 1 am. She was so tired she fell asleep on the couch and was awakened about two hours later to find every light in the house on and the front door shaking like mad! When she opened the front door nobody was there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Another night when I was in my room, I heard a strange noise coming from my fireplace. I went to see what it was and when I got about 5 feet away from it my bedroom light turned off and a very bright light came out of the fireplace!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lastly, every time I cleaned cobwebs out of any corner in this house, I would find them back where they had been the very next day!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for listening to my story, Jason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Following in your footsteps,&lt;br /&gt;                                                                                      Mitchell &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Some truly creepy stuff there, Mitchell. Thanks for sharing it with all of us. Hey, if I had haunted cobwebs in my house, I'd never clean my room (any excuse that works, right! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-6041786250057230350?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/6041786250057230350/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=6041786250057230350&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/6041786250057230350'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/6041786250057230350'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/07/living-in-haunted-house.html' title='Living in a Haunted House'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-5921671193804175366</id><published>2008-06-24T16:48:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-24T16:53:05.526-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PARANORMAL NEWS'/><title type='text'>Scary States in Central Park</title><content type='html'>For those of you in the New York City area, I wanted to let you know that Michael Teitelbaum will be doing a reading from &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The Scary States of America, &lt;/span&gt; as part of the New York Book Festival in Central Park.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The event will take place on Saturday, June 28 at the bandshell in the park. The reading will begin at 12 noon. The easiest way to get there is to enter the park at 72nd street and Fifth Avenue.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Hope to see you there!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-5921671193804175366?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/5921671193804175366/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=5921671193804175366&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/5921671193804175366'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/5921671193804175366'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/06/scary-states-in-central-park.html' title='Scary States in Central Park'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-3272149904214552767</id><published>2008-06-04T12:52:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-04T13:08:20.608-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Illinois'/><title type='text'>Dog Ghost</title><content type='html'>So far I've posted 2 stories about people who have seen or heard the ghosts of their cats. And these stories have gotten lots of great comments on my website. So now I'm happy to announce our first story about the ghost of a dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Annie and Jane from Illinois sent me this tale (tail?...ouch! Bad Pun Alert!) about Annie and her ghostly dog.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay... My school just got out two days ago. And yesterday was the first day of summer break! But I was not too excited about it because I had to go to my dad's work. I got home around 6:00 and my mom told me to take out my dog, Squiggle.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom was outside gardening. My brother, Austin, was outside riding his bike. My dad was golfing with some of his friends. After the walk I went inside to let Squiggle in. I opened the garage door and walked into the laundry room. The laundry room door was closed. I cracked open the laundry room door and I heard someone say "Come here, Charcoal!" Then I heard jingling. It sounded like Charcoal's collar. Charcoal was my other dog. But the thing is Charcoal died 2 years ago!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I opened the laundry room door and said "Mom? You there?" No answer. I looked out the window and my mom was outside. She had not moved from where she was gardening. I looked over at where we always kept Charcoal's collar--on the mantel over the fireplace. It was not there! I looked around and I saw it on the floor next to a fresh muddy paw print.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grabbed Squiggle and ran outside. I told my mom everything. She was skeptical so I brought her in to show her. But the collar was back in its place and the paw print was gone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm so scared... well... at least my house is being haunted by someone I love! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jane and Annie&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;WOW! (or should I say bow-WOW! Sorry, Bad Pun Alert again) Thanks, Jane and Annie, for sharing that story.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-3272149904214552767?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/3272149904214552767/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=3272149904214552767&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/3272149904214552767'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/3272149904214552767'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/06/dog-ghost.html' title='Dog Ghost'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-7439262467665573067</id><published>2008-06-03T15:59:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-06-03T16:08:59.444-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Indiana'/><title type='text'>Trinket From Beyond the Grave</title><content type='html'>Victoria from South Carolina sent me this tale about something that happened to her in her great-grandmother's house in Indiana. It has a creepy ring to it, as you'll see:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My great-grandma had just died 2 days ago and we were going through her house and getting the things she had let behind for us in her will. Now the one thing that was left to me was her turquoise ring. The only problem was that no one could find it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was up in her room and suddenly I got a chill. I looked around but no window was open. Then appearing in the doorway of the room stood my great-grandma dressed in the dress she had died in. She then knelt down and glided her hand under her dresser and picked out what looked to be a ring. She handed it to me and sure enough it was a turquoise ring! I gasped and when I looked up she mouthed the words "I love you"  and departed.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I still have the ring 5 years later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope you like the story!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I sure do. Not only did you get a ring that means a lot to you but you got a great story too! Thanks for sharing it.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-7439262467665573067?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/7439262467665573067/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=7439262467665573067&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/7439262467665573067'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/7439262467665573067'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/06/trinket-from-beyond-grave.html' title='Trinket From Beyond the Grave'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-994293671542341051</id><published>2008-03-20T13:35:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T13:48:33.504-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Indiana'/><title type='text'>The Neighbor in the Window</title><content type='html'>Sadie from Indiana sent me the following e-mail:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, So I read your book, and (of course) absolutely loved it!&lt;br /&gt;Anyway...&lt;br /&gt;Have you ever heard of anybody who could see spirits?&lt;br /&gt;Not just sometimes, but all the time, whereever they are.&lt;br /&gt;Well I can, and I have a pretty creepy story about my neighbor's house if you'd like to hear...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course I'd like to hear! And so Sadie sent me this chilling tale:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay....&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I first moved into my house, my mom made me meet the neighbors (ick). And the one on our left was an elderly man who I guess didn't like kids very much. I ended up being best friends with the girl in the house past his. But being the strange person I am, I had to investigate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I asked my friend about him, and it turned out he was really weird (and he used to be a circus clown, but that's not important). I convinced my friend to help me. After a few months of living there, I was walking home from my friend's house late one night and I happened to see out of the corner of my eye, my creepy neighbor watching me from his window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was a little freaked out, but I didn't think much of it. After a few more times of that happening, I got really annoyed. I asked my mom about him (not telling her about him watching me), saying he was really weird.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Turns out he had died a month before!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Somebody else lives there now, but sometimes I still see the creepy neighbor looking out his window at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sadie-&lt;br /&gt;Indiana&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've heard of being a good neighbor--this is ridiculous! And beyond CREEPY!! Thanks for sharing, Sadie.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-994293671542341051?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/994293671542341051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=994293671542341051&amp;isPopup=true' title='28 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/994293671542341051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/994293671542341051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/03/neighbor-in-window.html' title='The Neighbor in the Window'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>28</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-2830619939581335487</id><published>2008-03-20T13:00:00.004-05:00</published><updated>2008-11-13T17:17:41.380-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Rhode Island'/><title type='text'>Baby's Ghost is Mad!</title><content type='html'>Dear Jason,&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;My name is Aaron. My BEST friend Rain and I have experienced some paranormal stuff in Rhode Island. I swear this is real. One day at Rain's house, she took out a oiuja board and we contacted the spirits and believe us, we wish we NEVER had. We talked to a dead girl named Baby and she said she was at Rain's house. So we did some tests like we put out a tootsie roll and watched it with our own eyes move back and forth. After that we were going to visit her grave but it was raining really hard, so we went through some old photos and found a picture that had Baby in the background! We asked if it was her and it was. Now as you can imagine we were freaked out. The next day Baby started throwing and moving things around. We locked ourselves in Rain's room, but Baby kept throwing things at us and screaming like a banshee. But the weirdest thing was we couldn't figure out why she was mad. Then we realized that she was mad at us because we never visited her grave!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still, after we saw her temper that's the last place I want to be!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;&gt;'_'&lt; Aaron&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I don't blame you one bit! I don't know if I'd venture to her grave. I might also hide the ouija board! :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-2830619939581335487?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/2830619939581335487/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=2830619939581335487&amp;isPopup=true' title='20 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2830619939581335487'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2830619939581335487'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/03/babys-ghost-is-mad.html' title='Baby&apos;s Ghost is Mad!'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>20</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-4205113549863538604</id><published>2008-03-20T12:41:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-17T11:05:30.421-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Texas'/><title type='text'>"Sara Jane, I Have Your Baby!"</title><content type='html'>Allison from Texas sent me this local legend that's so popular it even has a street named after it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My name is Allison. I'm from Texas. There is a story here that is told every year at Halloween. Nobody really knows when it was started but it has plenty of truth to it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;In the pioneer days there was a woman named Sara Jane. She was traveling back to her home town with her new born daughter when she walked into a store only to find that it was being robbed. She raced out the door and the robbers chased her over what is now officially Pure Atlantic Road, but more commonly called Sara Jane Road. Sara wanted to save her child so she threw her into a near by bush,  but the infant rolled into the river. The robbers soon caught up with Sara and killed her. Meanwhile the child drowned. Now, Sara Jane haunts the road looking for her baby. Some say that if you stand in the middle of the road at midnight on Halloween and yell "Sara Jane! Sara Jane I have your baby!" you will hear a baby crying and a girl shouting "Where? Where?" I am still a chicken and have refused to try this myself but I have plenty of friends who have and all the stories are the same. First a wind colder than you can ever imagine blows. Then you hear an infant crying. And finally you see a woman running down the road. I once had a teacher who lived on Sara Jane Road and refused to believe this, but I figure this was only because he was a science teacher. He also refused to call the road Sara Jane Road.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;P.S luved the book &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks, Allison, for this great local legend. Next time I'm in Texas I'll have visit Pure Atlan--I mean Sara Jane Road!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-4205113549863538604?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/4205113549863538604/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=4205113549863538604&amp;isPopup=true' title='14 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/4205113549863538604'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/4205113549863538604'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/03/sara-jane-i-have-your-baby.html' title='&quot;Sara Jane, I Have Your Baby!&quot;'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>14</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-5895236736305748899</id><published>2008-03-20T11:18:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T11:27:58.551-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alabama'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Ohio'/><title type='text'>Grandma's Ghostly Tale</title><content type='html'>Kate from Ohio sent along this tale that her grandmother told her about her own ghostly encounter years ago in Alabama:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jason,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi my name is Kate and I'm from Ohio, but I have a story from Alabama to tell you. My grandma told me this:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was staying with your father's cousin Ruthie and she had a cat called&lt;br /&gt;Boo. Well, Boo liked to hang out in Ruthie's closet. She said I could pet him while she got ready for dinner. I went to the closet to say hi to Boo and when I did I felt someone tap me. I turned around and there was this little boy dressed in a little shirt and short pants. I turned to ask Ruthie about him, but when I turned back he was gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I later found out that a young boy by the name of Samuel Morriss Gregory had lived in that house about 80 years before Ruthie. He was 4 when one day he went outside and played in a pond. Well, the pond led to the river and he was swept away and later found. When he was found, his body was bloody and torn, and he was wearing a little shirt and short pants.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope you liked the story, Jason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Kate&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm still shivering, Kate! Thank you and please thank your grandmother for sharing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-5895236736305748899?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/5895236736305748899/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=5895236736305748899&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/5895236736305748899'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/5895236736305748899'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/03/grandmas-ghostly-tale.html' title='Grandma&apos;s Ghostly Tale'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-6424036850630518286</id><published>2008-03-20T11:08:00.005-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T11:16:17.512-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='California'/><title type='text'>White Lights and Black Shapes</title><content type='html'>Max from California sent me two tales of his encounters with the weird and unexplained. Here they are:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi, I'm Max, I live in California. I'm a HUGE fan of your site, and I have scary stories of my own, both of which happened to me. People say that I can see ghosts.&lt;br /&gt;  &lt;br /&gt;Here is the first one:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom and I live in this recently rebuilt house. It was all we could have hoped for. Nothing really unusual happened until about our eighth month living there. It was about 9:00 and I was watching tv when all of a sudden I saw what looked like a glowing hand shoot through the closed kitchen door. At first I was really scared but then I realized that it was probably just a trick of the light. About three minutes later I saw a big ball of white light come from the bedroom, pause in front of me, turn, and go through the kitchen door. At that point I was very scared. So I turned off the tv and was about to turn off my bedroom light when a freezing cold air engulfed me. It swirled around my body for about a minute then just dissapeared. We moved out two months later.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Here is my other story:&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I lived with my dad in a 1950's house. Things started happening right after we moved in. All of them seemed to happen to me and my friends when we played video games. The buttons started getting pushed all by themselves. Knocks would come at the door but nobody would be there. But the scariest thing happened to me and my friend Liam. He was sleeping over when at about 4:00 in the morning we were awakened by the sounds of pots and pans being hit together. When we went into the kitchen the fridge door was open and pots and pans were on the ground. We ran into the living room only to be confronted by the tv rotating on its stand (it could spin). We were about to turn and go into my room when we saw a black mass crouching in the fire place. Nobody else believes us but we know what we saw. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks, Max. The fact that both you and Liam saw this shape is very creepy indeed!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-6424036850630518286?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/6424036850630518286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=6424036850630518286&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/6424036850630518286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/6424036850630518286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/03/white-lights-and-black-shapes.html' title='White Lights and Black Shapes'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-2262944712097282011</id><published>2008-03-20T10:46:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-03-20T11:05:04.749-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alabama'/><title type='text'>The Legend of Crybaby Hollow</title><content type='html'>Taylor from Alabama sent me this local legend that he actually experienced himself. Check it out:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, I'm Taylor from Alabama. I LOVE your blog and book. Hope you make another Scary States of America.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So here is the legend: A young woman was so angry at her infant child that she threw him off the bridge. Now when a car goes across the bridge, it shakes back and forth or is pushed forward. Also tiny hand prints are seen on the car afterwards. If you leave candy on the bridge, the ghost will take it. If you pour baby powder on the bridge, footprints of a baby can be seen. The bridge is now called the bridge of crybaby hollow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, so here's what happened to me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was driving back to where I was camping out. On the way I drove my grandparents' car across the bridge of crybaby hollow. Then, the car starting shaking all over! The baby's cries filled the air. The ghost went inside my car! It grabbed my candy bar! Jason, I was so freaked out! The baby followed me as I went across the bridge until finally I sped off out of sight. People think I'm making this up. Do you believe me?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your #1 fan,&lt;br /&gt;Taylor&lt;br /&gt;(T-Bone)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, thanks for sending this along. Of course I believe you. I always trust that the people who send me stories are telling the truth. Thanks again for sharing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-2262944712097282011?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/2262944712097282011/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=2262944712097282011&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2262944712097282011'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2262944712097282011'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/03/legend-of-crybaby-hollow.html' title='The Legend of Crybaby Hollow'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-9098582130795468051</id><published>2008-02-23T13:13:00.006-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T17:44:52.779-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Arizona'/><title type='text'>The Phoenix Lights</title><content type='html'>Austin from Arizona sent me this tale of his UFO sighting. Check it out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My name is Austin and I'm from Arizona. I read your book. It was awesome!!! Keep posting stuff on your blog!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well anyway, I was sleeping in my room when I heard a low humming noise. When I looked out my window I saw a giant cylinder shape with a red light on it! I thought my mind was playing games with me so I went back to bed. When I woke up I turned on the news and found out several other people saw it too! It was called the "The Phoenix Lights". The government tried to cover it up by saying it was flares. Other stories said that it was the government testing a top secret plane. But if it was that, then why would they fly it over a large city? I believe it was aliens. What do you think?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, Austin, I can't tell you for sure since I wasn't there to see it. But the fact that other people saw the same thing on the same night tells me that it was not in your head! Thanks for sending this to me!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-9098582130795468051?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/9098582130795468051/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=9098582130795468051&amp;isPopup=true' title='16 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/9098582130795468051'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/9098582130795468051'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/02/phoenix-lights.html' title='The Phoenix Lights'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>16</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-8711670855008464334</id><published>2008-02-23T13:00:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-23T13:05:47.399-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Minnesota'/><title type='text'>The Driverless Car</title><content type='html'>Bella from Minnesota sent me this tale of her close encounter with a car...that just happened to have no driver!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Jason,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi, my name is Bella. I live in Minnesota. Anyway, there is an old railroad bridge outside of town by a park called the Thunder Valley Park. The bridge's name is the Black Bridge. Legend has it that in early summer, a ghost train passes through, carrying dead bodies and you can hear a funeral march playing. My friends Anne, Jodie and I love to bike by the bridge. One day, in early summer, we were biking down by the bridge, and we heard gravel churning behind us. We looked behind us, and we saw a really, really old white car. It caught our attention immediately, because it was so old. But here comes the scary part. We looked into the car, and in the right-hand passenger seat, was an old lady dressed entirely in white. She looked to be about eighty years old. She was sitting very stiffly with her hands in her lap, making it impossible to drive. We looked to see who was driving, BUT THERE WASN'T ANYONE IN THE DRIVERS SEAT!!!! At first, I thought my mind was playing tricks on me, but when I looked again, I still didn't see anyone!!!! We looked at each other and then started to scream and freak out! We hopped on our bikes and looked back at the car, and it was totally gone, and we were on a one lane gravel road, so we would have heard it if it passed us. We sure got out of there as quick as we could!!!!!! I still am scared to this day! We haven't been back to the bridge since! Thanks for reading this Jason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Bella&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank YOU, Bella for sharing!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-8711670855008464334?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/8711670855008464334/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=8711670855008464334&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/8711670855008464334'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/8711670855008464334'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/02/driverless-car.html' title='The Driverless Car'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-5777988477599584210</id><published>2008-02-23T12:39:00.003-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-23T12:58:27.549-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kentucky'/><title type='text'>The Bride of Cumberland Falls</title><content type='html'>Jessalyn and her sister Taylor sent me this bit of lore from their home state of Kentucky. I love local legends and this is a great one:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My name is Jessalyn. My sister, Taylor, and I have a great story for you. We know of a legend called "The Bride of Cumberland Falls". There are many different versions of it. Here is the most well known version:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A little over sixty years ago, a man and woman were to be married at the lodge of Cumberland Falls. On the night they had planned to get married, the groom called to say he was running late. Hours passed and the man never showed up. They were getting ready to go searching for him when the news came that the man had been killed in a car crash. The woman was so upset over her fiance's death, that she went to the top of the falls and jumped off what is now called Lover's Leap. Now it is said that she roams Cumberland Falls looking for her dead fiance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Many people have seen the bride, including myself and my sister. My dad, who used to work there, has also seen her. One night he was locking up the lodge. He had finished locking up and remembered he had left his clipboard inside. He went in to get it, and found that every door in the building was open! And he had just locked them all! That is just one of many strange things that have happened there. I hope you have enjoyed the legend of "The Bride of Cumberland Falls".&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Jessalyn and Taylor &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You bet I did! Thanks for sending it along!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-5777988477599584210?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/5777988477599584210/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=5777988477599584210&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/5777988477599584210'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/5777988477599584210'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/02/bride-of-cumberland-falls.html' title='The Bride of Cumberland Falls'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-2458920584670946728</id><published>2008-02-04T14:58:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-27T15:06:29.978-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PARANORMAL NEWS'/><title type='text'>The Stephenville, Texas UFO</title><content type='html'>Okay, the paranormal community (you guys know who you are!) has been buzzing about the mass sighting by bunches of people of a UFO in Stephenville, Texas at sunset on January 8, 2008.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nothing that strange about that, you might be saying (I know, I can hear you). True. But here's the unusual part of the story. The mainstream media, from ABC News to CNN has been covering this story...and taking it seriously. No smirks, rolling eyes, or condescending jabs at "those wacky folks" who see UFOs. Nope. Straight news coverage. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check out these links:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://abcnews.go.com/GMA/story?id=4142232"&gt;ABC News&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/22656172/"&gt;MSNBC&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.foxnews.com/story/0,2933,322751,00.html"&gt;Fox News&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=18159599"&gt;NPR&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.cbsnews.com/stories/2008/01/15/national/main3713630.shtml?source=RSSattr=HOME_3713630"&gt;CBS News&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course the air force is dismissing this as nothing (can you say Roswell?). No big shock there. Anyway, check it out and decide for youself. And if anyone from Stephenville actually saw this I'd love to hear from you!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jason&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-2458920584670946728?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/2458920584670946728/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=2458920584670946728&amp;isPopup=true' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2458920584670946728'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2458920584670946728'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/02/stephenville-texas-ufo.html' title='The Stephenville, Texas UFO'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-8433089165679569308</id><published>2008-02-04T14:55:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-02-04T14:58:16.083-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PARANORMAL NEWS'/><title type='text'>Eerie Radio interview</title><content type='html'>Hey everyone,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check out the interview that Scary States of America author Michael Teitelbaum did on Eerie Radio, a radio show devoted to--what else?-- all things paranormal!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the link:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.eerieradio.com/"&gt;http://www.eerieradio.com/&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Enjoy!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-8433089165679569308?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/8433089165679569308/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=8433089165679569308&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/8433089165679569308'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/8433089165679569308'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/02/eerie-radio-interview.html' title='Eerie Radio interview'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-3531466657030598072</id><published>2008-01-17T10:54:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-17T11:04:22.352-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Virginia'/><title type='text'>Cat Ghost II</title><content type='html'>Poltergeistgrl from Virginia sent me this tale (tail? ha-ha) about her cat who died, but continued to hang out with her. I have heard stories about cat ghosts before (check out the story from California) and this is another great one for my collection. Read on:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;hey J!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your book is awesome! i had no clue that creepy things happened in EVERY state of the US. Im not what u would call a UFO or paranormal freak, but my friends and I have had our share of creepy experiences around our little Virginia town. i have plenty to share with u about all of my friends stories but this one is by far the scariest ever!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ok, i was only six and i had been at school when my cat, Alley, who i had since i was born got run over by a car. When i got home my parents had to tell me the grisly news. i saw her put to rest in our backyard and we went on with our lives. the next Halloween (coincidentally, her birthday) i set a grave stone where we had buried her with her picture and then i went trick-or-treating. when i got back i glanced at her grave, nothing was there. No picture, no gravestone, nothing! i quickly ran inside my house to ask my family what happened but no one was there but me. later i went to bed, securely closing my door and laying down. After an hour or so, I heard MROWWWWWWW! I quicky sat up and sitting on my dresser was Alley! She had a weird blue aura around her and had stars in her eyes! i was freaked. when i moved over to touch her, she vanished! in the morning when I dragged myself out of bed i asked my parents if they heard anything weird, they said i was crazy! you believe me dont u?  -Poltergeistgrl&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course. I always trust that the people who send me stories are telling the truth. And, as I mentioned, this is not first case of a cat ghost I have heard about. Thanks!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-3531466657030598072?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/3531466657030598072/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=3531466657030598072&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/3531466657030598072'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/3531466657030598072'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/01/cat-ghost-ii.html' title='Cat Ghost II'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-6375580003958498638</id><published>2008-01-16T12:01:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2008-01-16T12:18:27.185-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maryland'/><title type='text'>Ghost in the Tollhouse</title><content type='html'>Emily from Maryland e-mailed me asking if she could "share her scares." So naturally I wrote back and said YEAH! as loud as I could (or as loud as anyone can using e-mail). And so she sent me back this creepy, creepy tale about the restaurant her mom works in. Here it is:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jason,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, first of all, this story takes place in Maryland at a restaurant called Mrs. K's Tollhouse. I've been told that there was a ghost here by most of the employees. In fact, I'm in the restaurant right now! I've never come in contact with the ghost, but my mom and many other employees have. Here's the story:&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The restaurant first started off as a toll house and a residence of the Kreuzberg family. A while later they turned it into a tavern and had many visitors. They lived and worked here for a while until Mrs. Mary Kreuzberg died of old age in one of the rooms on the upstairs floor. Her husband was so sad that he re-named the tavern "Mrs. K's Tollhouse". Soon, the current owners [my mom's bosses; husband and wife] bought the restaurant.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They were getting ready to close the restaurant one night when the husband left his office. He deadbolted the door and went downstairs. There was no else in the restaurant. The next day [before anyone arrived], he went back up to the office and the deadbolt had been un-screwed from the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He went downstairs to ask his wife if she had un-screwed it but she said she hadn't. At closing time that night, he went upstairs and re-screwed it on. The next day it happened again. He decided to just leave it off.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Things were quiet for a while after that. And then came the restroom construction...&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The men's restroom, across the way from my mom's office, was being reconstructed. One of the workers had finished for the day so he started to close the door. But, out of the corner of his eye, he saw an old woman in a rocking chair. This was in the heirloom corner where there are breakables and mirrors everywhere. "The woman was wearing old-fashioned clothing and was just watching me work," he said. Then again, a few years went by without any incidents or sighting. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Then, my mom started her job here as catering director. The restaurant started to close on Mondays. My mom was the only one at the restaurant on Mondays and soon the strangest thing happened. She was sitting at her desk working and listening to the radio when she heard a strange noise. It was a bell like from a trolley or something. She climbed up the stairs and it got louder. She thought it was coming from above the staircase. But when she got there she found no bell and no one.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I believe that the ghost of Mrs. K was trying to get someone's attention. Then I found out that the day my mom heard the bell, was the anniversary of the day Mrs. K had died! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Emily&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for sharing, Emily. This, like so many stories I have encountered goes to show that not all ghosts are evil. Some just want to make sure they are not forgotten. And it doesn't sound like anyone in the Tollhouse will soon forget Mrs. K!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-6375580003958498638?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/6375580003958498638/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=6375580003958498638&amp;isPopup=true' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/6375580003958498638'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/6375580003958498638'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2008/01/ghost-in-tollhouse.html' title='Ghost in the Tollhouse'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-4469115270042383702</id><published>2007-12-16T11:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-12-16T11:19:52.989-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Alaska'/><title type='text'>Another Alaska Bigfoot Encounter</title><content type='html'>Those of you who have read my book know all about one man's encounter with a Bigfoot in Alaska. My buddy Eli sent me this story about his friend's uncle's face-to-face with the big hairy guy, also in Alaska. Do I see a trend here? Check it out:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi, JS,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My friend Paul told me this story. Here's what he told me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My Uncle Kirk lives with me now, but he used to live in Alaska. When he was there he got caught in a colossal snow storm. He hiked around the forest and caught a rabbit for his dinner. But, unfortunately, he didn't like rabbit meat, so he let it go. On he hiked, farther and farther into the woods. But at about 6:30, he heard a growl behind him. And like Colin, who sent you "Werewolf In The Backyard" said, I don't mean BOO! I mean GGGGGGRRRRRRAAAAA!!!!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then he felt a tapping on his neck. When he turned around, he saw a dark figure. When he raised his flashlight, he saw that the figure looked like an ape of some sort. It was standing up on two legs and grasping the very rabbit Uncle Kirk had caught! Uncle Kirk ran and got away from whatever the big ape thing was (can you say "Bigfoot!").&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's all Paul told me. If I hear more, I'll send it to you. Merry Christmas! Hope you don't live in Alaska!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eli&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks Eli and please thank Paul for sharing this close encounter of the snowy, hairy kind!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-4469115270042383702?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/4469115270042383702/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=4469115270042383702&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/4469115270042383702'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/4469115270042383702'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/12/alaska-bigfoot-encounter.html' title='Another Alaska Bigfoot Encounter'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-3185143183390432260</id><published>2007-11-30T13:08:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-16T17:54:01.545-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Illinois'/><title type='text'>My Grandfather's Ghost</title><content type='html'>Mariela from Illinois send me this creepy encounter with a ghost. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey Jason,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well I read your book which i loved since I love Paranormal Phenomena, and the first time I saw it I knew I had to read it like the rest of the Paranormal books at my local Library. I live in Ilinois in a small boring town, nothing happens around here, so one day during summer break, just after I got back from my vacation to Mexico, I decide to sleep over at my cousin's house in Chicago. That's where I saw the ghost.&lt;br /&gt;     &lt;br /&gt;My dad drove me out to my cousin's house. I thought it was going to be fun and all since I usually have lots of fun going places with my cousins. My cousin Maria and I were outside looking out for the rest of my cousins, who are three and one. Then we went in for dinner and after we watched tv. When we got tired, it was about ten o' clock and we headed toward my cousin's bedroom and went to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well in the middle of the night I woke up because I felt like something was tapping at my shoulder. I thought that it was my cousin trying to wake me up to tell me something. I looked around the room and saw that my cousin was asleep, so I figured that it must have been part of my imagination and went back to sleep. After about twenty minutes passed I felt something again. I woke up and there next to me was an elderly man. He looked really nice and caring. I didn't dare go back under the covers. I knew this was a ghost. His image was faded and a little transparent. I love the paranormal so I just stood watching him. He looked very peaceful to me so I didn't feel scared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Seconds later he walked out the door(it was already open). Amazed at this I quickly got up and looked at the spot were he had been. I found nothing--no trace that he had ever been there. I was more excited than terrified, so I went back to sleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning I woke up and told my cousin what I had seen. She looked at me surprised and she asked me "Mariela, are you serious? You saw the ghost of my Grandfather. He died two months ago in this room. He loved us very much and sometimes came in our room to say goodnight."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was surprised. I had been in Mexico and had known nothing of this. "Are you serious?" I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes!" my cousin replied.&lt;br /&gt;     &lt;br /&gt;I hope that you liked my encounter with a ghost, a good one that is. Thanks for listening, I love your book.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank you, Mariela, for sharing this amazing tale with all of us.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-3185143183390432260?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/3185143183390432260/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=3185143183390432260&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/3185143183390432260'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/3185143183390432260'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/11/my-grandfathers-ghost.html' title='My Grandfather&apos;s Ghost'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-2772751015743421330</id><published>2007-11-29T09:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-29T09:45:53.837-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PARANORMAL NEWS'/><title type='text'>Giant Bug Discovered!</title><content type='html'>Okay, so I've come across lots of bizarre and scary creatures during my travels, research, and collecting of stories. But this one is a doozy!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scientists have just found the fossil of the biggest bug that ever lived.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;How big?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Try &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;EIGHT FEET LONG!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;That's right, a bug that's bigger than a really tall human!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This is one bug that you couldn't squish or knock out with a can of Raid. You'd need a tanker truck of Raid to get rid of this guy.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But don't worry. He's been dead for 390 million years. But that doesn't stop him from creeping me out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check out this &lt;a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/21906979/from/ET/"&gt;story&lt;/a&gt;. Creeeeeeeeepy!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gotta go. The exterminator is here!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jason&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-2772751015743421330?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/2772751015743421330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=2772751015743421330&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2772751015743421330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2772751015743421330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/11/giant-bug-discovered.html' title='Giant Bug Discovered!'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-4853795714100220258</id><published>2007-11-12T14:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-12T14:50:56.495-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pennsylvania'/><title type='text'>The Beast in the Snow</title><content type='html'>Paul from Pennsylvania sent me this tale of a terrifying encounter on a snowy winter day:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jason,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have several freaky stories I can share with you but just wanted to say I thoroughly enjoyed your "The Scary States of America" book. Here's one of the strange things that has happened to me.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;In 1997 my wife, four sons, and I were renting a house on a 200 hundred acre farm in Pennsylvania. It was beautiful, with rolling hills outlining a forest and a creek that ran through the property. Even though the house was fantastic and property a dream it was still creepy. We would always feel as if we were being watched. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The winter of 1997 was a horrible winter. Snow piled up with drifts of over 7 feet. It would snow 10 to 12 inches a day, no one was going anywhere. A state of emergency was called as roads were impassable.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;I woke up early, and heard on the news the roads were all closed and decided to go see if I could clear away snow from the cars. Three feet of fresh snow had fallen the night before so I put my boots on and headed out. A winter wonderland lay before me with 6 foot snow drifts on the farm road. I trenched out into yard and that's when I first saw them. Huge footprints twice the size of my boots in the fresh snow. The prints had no shoe tracks were at least seven feet apart. I had to run and jump to get from one track to the other. What was freaky was the tracks came from the woods across the field and stopped near a clump of trees that were close to the house then just disappeared.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I tried to put it out of my mind. I trudged through the snow. As I walked toward the cars off to my left about a hundred yards along the tree line I thought at first a tree was following me. This massive black thing walked parallel with me as I headed toward the main road. The wind shifted and I got wiff of a smell that would knock a buzzard off a dung pile. Like the Philalelphia Zoo in the hot summer sun. Nasty!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;As I came to the open field I could see the cars in front of me. The wind whipped snow in my face as I had to crawl the last hundred feet. That's when it happened. I heard a growling and heavy breathing. This dark shape off to my left started crossing the field coming toward me. Whatever it was was massive and heavy enough to crack through the ice and snow as it lumbered toward me. Its upper body was at least 6 feet above the snow which was easily four feet deep. At first I thought it was a bear, but this thing was no bear! It walked like an ape, and I couldn't see much of it's face because it was covered with hair. With it's huge strides it was gaining on me. It's massive arms dragged through the snow as it came closer. I reached the cars, barely squeezed into my mini-van, and slammed the door. I cranked the car on and could see the dark shape through the glass. The next thing I know the van start shaking back and forth violently. It almost tilted over. All along I could hear screaming and growling. I was able to start the car, and honk the horn. It must have scared the creature because the car stopped rocking. After a minute I put car into gear and rolled forward.  I got about ten feet when I slammed into something. Thinking I rammed into my other car I instictively hopped out. My other car was behind me--not in front, and whatever that thing was that attacked my car was standing right in front of me. It stood about nine feet tall. It growled and screamed at me. It stepped toward me. I laid on the horn and put it in gear and floored it. I just sat and spun in the snow. The creature backed away and growled. I continued to honk on the horn. It continued to back away. A strong gust of wind blew a spray of snow between me and it. I shielded my eyes. When I looked up it was gone!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;No wonder the former tenants wanted to move out!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Thanks for listening. You are doing great and admirable work, listening! Take care.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Paul&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow! I usually like playing in the snow, but not with a nine-foot-tall monster!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-4853795714100220258?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/4853795714100220258/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=4853795714100220258&amp;isPopup=true' title='2 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/4853795714100220258'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/4853795714100220258'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/11/beast-in-snow.html' title='The Beast in the Snow'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>2</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-6678803385388288886</id><published>2007-11-05T13:09:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-11-08T13:32:06.694-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PARANORMAL NEWS'/><title type='text'>New Jersey Bookstore Appearance</title><content type='html'>Hey paranormal fans, I want to let all of you in the New York/New Jersey area know that Michael Teitelbaum, the children's book author who helped get my book, THE SCARY STATES OF AMERICA, published will be appearing at a great bookstore in Montclair, NJ. It called Watchung Booksellers. Check out their &lt;a href="http://www.watchungbooksellers.com/NASApp/store/IndexJsp?s=storeevents&amp;eventId=361934"&gt;website&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The event is on Saturday, November 10 from 2-3 pm.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michael will be speaking about the book, reading from the book, and then signing copies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He hopes to see you all there!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your friend,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jason&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;ps All are welcome, except, of course, for the Jersey Devil!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-6678803385388288886?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/6678803385388288886/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=6678803385388288886&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/6678803385388288886'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/6678803385388288886'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/11/new-jersey-bookstore-appearance.html' title='New Jersey Bookstore Appearance'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-8226126445231606991</id><published>2007-10-31T14:16:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T14:24:24.543-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New York'/><title type='text'>Werewolf in the Backyard</title><content type='html'>Colin from New York sent me this story about his encounter with a werewolf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hey, Jason.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My name is Colin and I'm an 8 year old boy living in upstate New&lt;br /&gt;York. I'm reading your book right now and I really like it. Now&lt;br /&gt;here's one of my stories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Last night, I was at a Halloween party. It was two days after a full&lt;br /&gt;moon and it was still really big in the night sky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There's a path in the woods that comes up behind the house where we were attending the party.  Me and my friend, Katie, decided to check it out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I just started on the path when I heard a weird noise. And I don't&lt;br /&gt;mean "Boo!" I mean, it was a loud, deep growl. I said, "Did you hear&lt;br /&gt;that, Katie?" She nodded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stared deeper into the woods and saw a stick-like figure leaning&lt;br /&gt;against a tree. Then it broke a branch and went down on all fours.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I kept walking further down the path. Katie stayed back. She was&lt;br /&gt;pretty scared. I never saw her like this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I saw its head. It was a wolf-like head. It was furry and&lt;br /&gt;oval shaped. It was looking the other way and I could make out a body. It was furry and had big claws. And it smelled horrible.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I called to my dad to give me his cell phone camera. I took one picture of the creature but it didn't come out good. You could just see its back, running away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I heard a twig break. Then another. Then another. Then I heard it breathing on my neck. I didn't want to look back. I was running so fast that I tripped over a log. I yelled out then I got up and kept running until I was out off the woods.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I told everyone about what happened but they didn't believe me. I took all the kids into the woods but I took a wrong turn.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I saw the stick-like creature again. Although, this time he was walking upright on his two back legs - like a human. Katie saw it but&lt;br /&gt;the other kids never did.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one but Katie believed my story. But I thought maybe you would so I wanted to tell you about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks, Colin. Too bad that picture didn't come out too well. Still, a scary encounter!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-8226126445231606991?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/8226126445231606991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=8226126445231606991&amp;isPopup=true' title='21 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/8226126445231606991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/8226126445231606991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/10/werewolf-in-backyard.html' title='Werewolf in the Backyard'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>21</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-8966070056886737330</id><published>2007-10-31T14:05:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T14:14:27.967-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Louisiana'/><title type='text'>Living Appliances</title><content type='html'>Megan from Louisiana sent me this story about what happened to some of the appliances in her house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi Jason I was reading your book and I thought I'd share my story.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;At the time I was about ten and I lived in a small town in Louisiana. Anyway, I was in my room at about 10:30 at night. The keyboard that I always have on my bookshelf started playing by itself! I ran from my room. When I got to the kitchen I saw that the oven, microwave, and toaster were all glowing! They also all made weird humming noises.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents were out and my older brother was playing basketball down the street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was totally alone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I just ran back to my room. Everything was quiet again--no music, no keys being pushed, no nothing. I ran back to the kitchen. Same thing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm twelve now and i still don't know what happened. Thanks for reading this.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Megan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for sharing, Megan. I love music too, but this is just plain weird!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-8966070056886737330?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/8966070056886737330/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=8966070056886737330&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/8966070056886737330'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/8966070056886737330'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/10/living-appliances.html' title='Living Appliances'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-8981920912595866492</id><published>2007-10-31T13:52:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-31T14:02:38.239-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Connecticut'/><title type='text'>Ghost in the School</title><content type='html'>Eli from Connecticut sent me this way creepy tale about a ghost that haunts his school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dude, you rock for letting me do this. I can't thank you enough.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, I was just walking to the bathroom on a typical Friday. Our school has classrooms so far away from our bathrooms that you have to walk a mile just to pee. I walked by a friend and of course he had to talk to me. And what's he talking about? The ghost that supposedly haunts our school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So, later, I'm in the bathroom and all of a sudden, the lights go off and the mirror lights up green. Except for two little dots. They glowed blood red. A chill ran down my spine as a girl walked right out of the mirror! I ran out into the hallway and found that the lights were off there too. Little blood red dots were shining down from the ceiling. Millions and millions of them!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran back into the bathroom and everything was normal. I ran back to the hall. Normal again. I rushed to the library and looked in the 1903 school directory. I knew for a fact that that was the year the ghost who haunted our school died. Everyone calls her Bloody Mary. There on the bottom of the page for the 6th grade class, was a name. It definitely started with an M. I took an eraser and rubbed on the name. The name came through to the back of the page. It said "Mary Krunkle died on June 11th, 1903." After that day, I never saw her again, but I heard a few people say that they saw her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Eli&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow, Eli. You might want to consider holding it in until you get home!! Jason&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-8981920912595866492?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/8981920912595866492/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=8981920912595866492&amp;isPopup=true' title='13 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/8981920912595866492'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/8981920912595866492'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/10/ghost-in-school.html' title='Ghost in the School'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>13</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-679377352874379286</id><published>2007-10-29T12:43:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-30T20:46:26.809-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PARANORMAL NEWS'/><title type='text'>Books of Wonder Appearance</title><content type='html'>&lt;a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://bp3.blogger.com/_IBAfFuY4XhQ/RyYciUKS5yI/AAAAAAAAAAM/zzGkE6AD4hg/s1600-h/Mike+reading.jpg"&gt;&lt;img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://bp3.blogger.com/_IBAfFuY4XhQ/RyYciUKS5yI/AAAAAAAAAAM/zzGkE6AD4hg/s320/Mike+reading.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5126816601660909346" /&gt;&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So the reading/signing event by Michael Teitelbaum for &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Scary States of America&lt;/span&gt; at &lt;a href="http://www.booksofwonder.com/"&gt;Books of Wonder&lt;/a&gt;, the coolest bookstore in NYC was a blast!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's a photo of Michael reading about The Headless Conductor of North Carolina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Also, click on this &lt;a href="http://leezybloggs.blogspot.com/2007/10/illustrators-and-authors-galore.html"&gt;link&lt;/a&gt; for a nice review of the event.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks to everyone for coming!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-679377352874379286?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/679377352874379286/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=679377352874379286&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/679377352874379286'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/679377352874379286'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/10/books-of-wonder-appearance-pt-2.html' title='Books of Wonder Appearance'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><media:thumbnail xmlns:media='http://search.yahoo.com/mrss/' url='http://bp3.blogger.com/_IBAfFuY4XhQ/RyYciUKS5yI/AAAAAAAAAAM/zzGkE6AD4hg/s72-c/Mike+reading.jpg' height='72' width='72'/><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-8199706698590220995</id><published>2007-10-25T15:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T15:56:45.172-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='California'/><title type='text'>More Shadow People</title><content type='html'>Fred from California sent me a tale of her encounter with Shadow People:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi, I like to be called Fred, although I'm a girl. Yes I know it's weird. I'm from California, and this freaky thing happened to me, my friend who goes by Weasel, and her dog Minnie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ok, so I have been seeing creepy things since I was like, 3. But this is a story not many people believed, so you're pretty much my last hope Jason. My friend and I were at her house on the computer. Her parents were away and her siblings were all outside. We were the only ones inside, and dude, I promise you this is all true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All of a sudden, we heard footsteps outside the room. We looked and there was this shadow walking, then it disappeared. We looked out the window and saw that all of Weasel's siblings were still outside. They couldn't have gotten in and back out so fast. Freaky! All of a sudden, Minnie started whining and barking. We looked and the shadow was back. That was the last straw. We ran out of the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Once in a while the shadow comes back, but it never hurt anyone. Yet.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks for sharing. So many folks see Shadow People. They seem to be everywhere!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-8199706698590220995?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/8199706698590220995/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=8199706698590220995&amp;isPopup=true' title='10 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/8199706698590220995'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/8199706698590220995'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/10/more-shadow-people.html' title='More Shadow People'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>10</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-6389676150759381918</id><published>2007-10-25T11:10:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T11:16:37.120-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Indiana'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kentucky'/><title type='text'>Vision of the Future</title><content type='html'>Heather from Kentucky sent me this story about a vision she had that unfortunately came true.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello Jason,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My name is Heather and I live in Kentucky now, but I use to live in Indiana. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I started having dreams and visions that came true when I was 13 or 14..  I didn't really think about it too much or even really make the connections till I was getting ready for school one morning....  I was staring at myself in the mirror when all around me everything seemed to fade to black.    I then saw a little girl dressed in black leaning over a coffin and my grandfather was laying inside.  The image began to fade and  my knees felt weak and I fell to the floor.  I was stunned for a bit, but was finally able to get up.   I went into the kitchen to talk to my mom who had been on the phone.  She then told me that my grandfather was dying. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have many more stories, too many to write here.  But if this helps you in anyway  I will be happy. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Heather&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks, Heather, for sharing this sad but amazing tale.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-6389676150759381918?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/6389676150759381918/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=6389676150759381918&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/6389676150759381918'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/6389676150759381918'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/10/vision-of-future.html' title='Vision of the Future'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-671300629971524689</id><published>2007-10-25T10:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-25T11:02:09.050-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Virginia'/><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='North Carolina'/><title type='text'>Who's Sleeping in the Bed?!</title><content type='html'>Kailey from Virginia sent me this creepy story that happened to her brother and cousin while they were on vacation in North Carolina.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Jason,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My name is Kailey, the oldest of three from Virginia.  One favorite subject in our household are stories of the paranormal.  My dad loves watching documentaries of UFOs and my mom and I can't pass up a good show about hauntings.  Perhaps one of the reasons for our interests in these eerie encounters is because they hit closer to home than you might think.  One such occurance happened to my brother Cameron and our cousin Benjamin a couple of years ago, in the Outer Banks of North Carolina. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It happened something like this:&lt;br /&gt;Cameron and Ben were spending a week at a beachhouse with Ben's parents, his younger sister and another family.  Everything was great until one night the boys were sleeping in a big bed they were sharing when a noise woke them up.  They looked at the doorway where the noise was coming from to see a little girl there, dressed in her pajamas.  Thinking it was one of the younger kids from the other family who had had a nightmare, they told her she could sleep in the big bed with them. The girl climbed into bed and the boys fell back asleep.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning, Cameron and Ben woke up to find the little girl gone. When they asked everyone in the house if any of them had come to their room, they all said no. Rushing back to the bedroom, they were shocked to discover an indentation on the mattress where their visitor had been sleeping, as if she was still there!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And perhaps she still was, but one thing they knew for certain: they had just spent the night with a ghost.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The adults in the beachhouse told them to stop making up scary stories because they would give the kids nightmares. Typical, huh?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So Cameron and Ben kept quiet and said nothing, though they were still shaken.  Once they got back home, Cameron finally did tell his story to the people he knew would believe him: me and my parents.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;You see, my parents themselves had a few ghostly encounters before I was born, so they knew exactly how Cameron felt.  I believed him because he and Ben would have never made up anything like what they had described. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;To date, we have not tried to find out anything about the house or if any child had died there, but who knows?  It might one day make for some interesting research.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sincerely yours,&lt;br /&gt;Kailey&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks, Kailey! I'm glad someone believed Cameron and Ben.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-671300629971524689?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/671300629971524689/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=671300629971524689&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/671300629971524689'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/671300629971524689'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/10/whos-sleeping-in-bed.html' title='Who&apos;s Sleeping in the Bed?!'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-5255662290258197822</id><published>2007-10-15T13:06:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T13:07:30.996-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kentucky'/><title type='text'>Little Girl from the Past</title><content type='html'>Teresa from Kentucky sent me this tale about her encounters with a little girl from another time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jason,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My name is Teresa and I live in Kentucky.  I grew up in a haunted house.  We moved in in 1972 and all was quiet for a while.  My earliest memories of unusual things started at about age 6--unusual sounds, items disappearing and reappearing, the feeling you were not alone (when you know that you are the only one home), footsteps in a room where no one is physically there in the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I was about eleven years old, some friends of mine and I were hanging out in the basement.  We looked up into a window facing our yard and saw a girl standing there.  Not unusual for our neighborhood, there were lots of kids.  But no one recognized this girl and she was wearing clothing not of our time period.  She had on a long dress with a white pinifore.   She had blonde hair and blue eyes.  She looked to be about the same age as me.  By the time we raced out of the basement to the spot she had been standing in, she was gone!  But we all had seen her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few months later, I was asleep in my room.  I awoke with this feeling of not being alone in the room.  And of course, there she was.  The same girl, in the same clothing.  She asked me what I was doing in her room.  I told her it was my room now.   She then told me she had come to warn me that I was in danger.  I asked her what kind of danger.  She simply said "Time will tell" and disappeared into thin air! I was still half asleep and the next morning I figured I had just dreamed it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was wintertime and the neighborhood kids decided to go ice skating at the creek nearby. We walked down there and began playing on the frozen water.  I skated off by myself and suddenly got the feeling I was being watched.  I looked up the hill from where I was standing and there she was!! In the same clothing, with no winter coat or shoes.  About this time, I heard the ice cracking.  I realized the ice was breaking, and I quickly laid down on the ice to equally distribute my weight.  And I began to scream for the other kids to help me.  Someone retrieved a long broken tree branch and pushed it over the ice to me.  I grabbed a hold of it and they pulled me to safety.  As I got to my feet in a safer place on the ice, the spot I had been standing in just gave way.  When I glanced up the hill where the girl had been, she was gone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I later asked the landlord of the house if there was anything I needed to know about the house, he hesitated but then told me.  Back in the 1930's, a young girl named Lydia had died in our house.  She was ten years old, and matched the description of the girl I had seen.  She died of an asthma attack--in my room!  I went to the library and looked at old newspapers on microfilm.  After days of research, I found an article about the girl's death and a copy of her obituary.  It included a photograph.  It was the same girl everyone had seen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My parents lived in the house for almost three decades.  Everyone I knew was afraid to sleep in that upstairs bedroom, but me.  I got used to having her around and after my experience that winter day I felt like she was just a spirit trapped between this world and the next. My younger sister who later inherited my room was terrified of the upstairs of that house, and even as an adult, slept with the lights on at night.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The house is still there and someone new lives in it now.  I often wonder if they see or hear anything unusual.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks so much for sharing your story, Teresa!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-5255662290258197822?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/5255662290258197822/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=5255662290258197822&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/5255662290258197822'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/5255662290258197822'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/10/little-girl-from-past_15.html' title='Little Girl from the Past'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-1239099518559389423</id><published>2007-10-15T12:57:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T13:05:46.693-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Pennsylvania'/><title type='text'>The Ghosts of a Christmas Past?</title><content type='html'>Ed from Pennsylvania sent this tale of a very bizarre Christmas...in July!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My name is Ed and I'm from Pennsylvania.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This event was experienced by my brother and me. We were walking our dog on her nightly outing. We noticed a house brightly lit with the blinds/shades up. Inside were people wearing heavy coats and clothing. They were having a great time. Why not?  Everyone was celebrating Christmas inside the house!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;Only one thing! It was the middle of July and these people were having a Christmas party!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;At that point, our dog was acting funny as if something was not normal. We left the area. Oddly, there was no one on the street while we were there.  Again, it was July in a big city and people sometimes sit out on their steps.&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;A few days later, we went past the same house.  To our surprise, the house was boarded up.  We asked a neighbor about the house never mentioning what we saw just a few nights ago.  The person said that the house was boarded up after a fire had killed almost everyone inside.  My brother and I looked at each other with no comment. &lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The next thing he told us shocked us beyond belief...&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;The disaster took place over twenty years ago during a Christmas celebration!&lt;br /&gt; &lt;br /&gt;We still talk of this event 40 years later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Wow! Talk about a party going on for too long!! Thanks for your story, Ed.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-1239099518559389423?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/1239099518559389423/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=1239099518559389423&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/1239099518559389423'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/1239099518559389423'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/10/ghosts-of-christmas-past.html' title='The Ghosts of a Christmas Past?'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-2012227368839379946</id><published>2007-10-15T12:23:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T12:30:02.631-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New Jersey'/><title type='text'>The Haunted Washroom</title><content type='html'>Tommy from New Jersey sent me this story about the previous owner of his house who died, but simply forgot to leave.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi. I'm Tommy from New Jersey. I'm 10. I think my house is haunted by the soul of the lady that previously owned it. It all started when I threw a tennis ball down the stairs and into the washing room. It rolled in, and then I heard a wail and then the ball was thrown back out!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My dad never believes me with ghosts and all, so he said it must've bounced off of something. Then at night (my room is right next to the washing room), I heard the door of the washroom creak, so I rushed to the door and tried to lock it, but the locks wouldn't budge! For the next week my door was WAY harder to open, and weird things happened in the washroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first incident was when I put clothes into the washing machine, and then I closed to the door and walked out. I heard a "thump" in there and I opened the door to look. The washing machine door was open and the clothes were all soggy and laying on the floor. The next happening was when the dryer dried the clothes, but the clothes were ICE COLD when they came out. Now, whenever I walk down the stairs to my room, the door swings open--but only for me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks, Tommy! If that had happened to me, I might still be wearing the same dirty clothes!!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-2012227368839379946?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/2012227368839379946/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=2012227368839379946&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2012227368839379946'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2012227368839379946'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/10/haunted-washroom.html' title='The Haunted Washroom'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-5390872552079364198</id><published>2007-10-15T12:03:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-15T12:12:08.532-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Louisiana'/><title type='text'>Evil Visitor</title><content type='html'>Stephanie from Louisiana sent me this story about an unwelcome visitor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband and I lived in a little one bedroom shack-house that had belonged to my uncle before he died.  The house had been older than dirt when my uncle had it moved to the property and by this time was another decade older.  Strange things would happen around the house and in the house at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My husband would sit up in bed in the middle of the night with his eyes wide open and start calling me names and picking a fight with me.  When I accused him of this he would say, "What are you talking about, I said no such thing."  It was like he was snapping out of a trance and honestly didn't realize what he had said to me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We would also hear rattling around in the attic, and when we would open the attic door it would make the hair on our necks stand on end.  Whatever/whoever it was seemed to dwell in the attic.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;On one particular night, we were just sitting quietly on the bed in the dark and we could hear my rocking chair in the other room and what sounded like a child crying.  For a minute, we just talked about what it could be.  Maybe since the house was so old, it was the sound of a scared child that once lived in the house.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I made a decision, and told my husband that I was going to open myself up to whatever it was because maybe it/he/she needed help.  About the time I made that decision I was overwhelmed with the darkest, most evil energy I had ever felt in my life.  I immediately started shaking and crying and said, "That is NOT a child!"  My husband started saying, "Block it out!  Put your walls back up and it can't hurt you!"  I felt a real cold energy behind me and then I felt ice cold hands wrap around my throat.  I fought it off with all the mind power I could muster up and finally it subsided.  I have never been so scared in my entire life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I have ghost stories for days, but this one tops my list for "scary".  I proved to myself that some things are just better left alone.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stephanie from Louisiana &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thanks, Stephanie! Glad it all turned out okay for you.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-5390872552079364198?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/5390872552079364198/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=5390872552079364198&amp;isPopup=true' title='8 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/5390872552079364198'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/5390872552079364198'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/10/evil-visitor.html' title='Evil Visitor'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>8</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-2244400202705645781</id><published>2007-10-09T16:36:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-10-09T16:46:05.840-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PARANORMAL NEWS'/><title type='text'>Scary States on the Radio!</title><content type='html'>I wanted to let all you fans of the paranormal out there know that this Friday, October 12, Michael Teitelbaum, the children's book author who helped get my book, THE SCARY STATES OF AMERICA, published will be appearing on COAST TO COAST AM, &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;THE&lt;/span&gt; radio show about the paranormal! He'll be on from 1-2am (technically Saturday morning) on the East Coast (pretty late for most of you, I know), but 10pm-11pm (a little better!) for you West Coast parnormal fans. It's the most amazing show ever about the world of the paranormal. Check out their &lt;a href="http://www.coasttocoastam.com/"&gt;website&lt;/a&gt;. Click on "Affiliates", then click on  your state on the map to see if it's on a radio station near you. It's on more than 500 radio stations across the Scary States, so there's a pretty good chance it will be.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hope you can listen!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jason&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-2244400202705645781?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/2244400202705645781/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=2244400202705645781&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2244400202705645781'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2244400202705645781'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/10/scary-states-on-radio.html' title='Scary States on the Radio!'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-4601276818666791581</id><published>2007-09-27T14:20:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T14:23:27.916-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PARANORMAL NEWS'/><title type='text'>Books of Wonder Appearance</title><content type='html'>Hey paranormal fans, I want to let all of you in the New York City area know that Michael Teitelbaum, the children's book author who helped get my book, THE SCARY STATES OF AMERICA, published will be appearing at the coolest bookstore in NYC.  It called Books of Wonder. Check out their &lt;a href="http://www.booksofwonder.com/"&gt;website&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The event is on Sunday, October 28, from 1-3 pm at Books of Wonder,  18 W. 18th street in Manhattan.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Michael will be speaking about the book and then signing copies.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He hopes to see you all there!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your friend,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jason&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-4601276818666791581?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/4601276818666791581/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=4601276818666791581&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/4601276818666791581'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/4601276818666791581'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/09/books-of-wonder-appearance.html' title='Books of Wonder Appearance'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-330584407466786668</id><published>2007-09-27T13:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-27T14:01:48.956-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='California'/><title type='text'>Journal from the Grave</title><content type='html'>Adrian from California sent me this tale of a journal that seemed to have a life (or more accurately, a death) of its own. Read on:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello Jason,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My name is Adrian and I'm 12 years old. I have always thought ghost stories were interesting but not real--until really weird things started happening to me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just around my 12th birthday things started happening. First there was the book. There's this journal that I keep and its kinda old. I've had it for a while. My parents got it from Italy from a woman who seemed glad to be rid of it. I didnt think about it all that much until one night when I had just finished writing in the journal my room suddenly became cold. I walked outside to see if the air conditioning was on, but it wasn't. Then my door slammed shut with the book still inside my room. I forced open the door then put the book in a drawer and forgot about it. Then one day when I was cleaning my room, I took out the book and put it on a shelf and continued to clean. The next day after school I came into my room to find that everything I had cleaned had been ripped off the shelves and my drawers were all out of place. My mom came into my room and began yelling at me, like I had done this. But I didn't. I put the book away again and things subsided, but a few weeks later I started having odd dreams about the book being robbed from a grave. Also I started feeling nauseous whenever I entered my room. Then one day the creepiest thing of all happened. I heard a scream come from my room but no one was there. I opened the book and writing began to appear by itself, as if some invisble hand was scribbling on the page. "You! You robbed my grave!" the writing said. I shut the book, rushed downstairs with it, and threw it in the fire we had in the fireplace. I heard another scream and then with a puff of smoke, the book was gone. That final scream was inhuman and still haunts my nightmares to this day.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Feel free to tell my story,&lt;br /&gt;Adrian, CA&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Nobody likes scary books better than me, but wow, that was one scary book. Thanks for sharing your story, Adrian.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-330584407466786668?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/330584407466786668/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=330584407466786668&amp;isPopup=true' title='11 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/330584407466786668'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/330584407466786668'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/09/journal-from-grave.html' title='Journal from the Grave'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>11</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-3488313549292061121</id><published>2007-09-25T09:18:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T09:19:41.238-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='SEND ME YOUR STORY'/><title type='text'>Thanks for all the e-mails and the Amazon reviews!</title><content type='html'>Hey, fellow fans of the paranormal, I want to thank you for all the really cool e-mails I've been getting from all of you. I'm getting flooded with e-mails from readers sharing their close encounters with the strange, the unexplained, and the downright scary.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I've gotten so swamped with e-mails that I can't really answer each one, but trust me--I READ THEM ALL! And some of the stories wind up here on my website.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If you e-mail me your story (&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;jason.paraguy@gmail.com&lt;/span&gt;) be sure to tell me your &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;first name&lt;/span&gt; and &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;what state&lt;/span&gt; you are from.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And special thanks to the readers who posted a review of my book on Amazon. If you have read the book and you liked it, all you have to do to post a review is go to &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Scary-States-America-Michael-Teitelbaum/dp/0385733313/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/002-4522163-9307261?ie=UTF8&amp;s=books&amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;qid=1185206375&amp;sr=1-1"&gt;Amazon.com&lt;/a&gt;, go down to the "Customer Reviews" section and click on "Write your own review." That's it!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Keep those e-mails coming. And tell your friends about the book and about my website.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;your friend,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jason Specter&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-3488313549292061121?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/3488313549292061121/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=3488313549292061121&amp;isPopup=true' title='18 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/3488313549292061121'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/3488313549292061121'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/09/thanks-for-all-e-mails-and-amazon.html' title='Thanks for all the e-mails and the Amazon reviews!'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>18</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-2834914415438962752</id><published>2007-09-25T08:58:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T09:15:42.826-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Indiana'/><title type='text'>Shadow People</title><content type='html'>I first heard about Shadow People from my buddy FreakBoy479 in Arkansas. I was so weirded out by the story he sent me that I included it in my book. Apparently, my Arkansas pal isn't the only one experiencing unwelcome visits from living shadows. Ethan from Indiana sent me this terrifying tale of his encounter with Shadow People:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello, my name is Ethan and I am from Indiana.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am a big fan of the paranormal and wish to send you my own paranormal experience.  Once in 2005 I was sleeping in my room. The alarm in my room sounded. I looked at the clock and it was only 3:00am. This was weird since it was set for 7! I sat up and looked into the kitchen and I saw a shadowy figure about 5'11" tall staring right at me! I hid under my blanket and looked back but nothing was there. Then I turned to my window and I saw it there, staring at me with its blank face. I felt like I was in a trance and that the thing was keeping me in place with its stare.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was sooooooo scared. Eventually I got the courage to get up and run to the kitchen to turn on the light. When I looked back, it was gone!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Ethan&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Phew! That is scary. Thanks for sending your story! I guess there are Shadow People in every state. Now there's a terrifying thought!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-2834914415438962752?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/2834914415438962752/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=2834914415438962752&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2834914415438962752'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2834914415438962752'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/09/shadow-people.html' title='Shadow People'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-45395219729095435</id><published>2007-09-25T08:46:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-09-25T08:56:43.021-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='California'/><title type='text'>The Levitating Ghost</title><content type='html'>Jessica from California sent me this tale of a ghost that levitated through the air. What creeped me out the most about it was that three people saw exactly the same thing! Check out her story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Jason,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My name is Jessica and my mom had a little ghost encounter in California.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was on Christmas Eve and she was with my aunt and her cousin talking in her driveway. Around 11:30 P.M. she said something caught her eye. It looked like an older man in his 70's or 80's. He was wearing an old night shirt and he walked in slow motion. Here's the thing--she could've sworn he was levitating, rising into the air!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After it happened my mom, my aunt, and her cousin all looked at each other asking each other if they had just seen the levitating man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They did. They had all seen the same thing! To this day they all remember it, and I'm the only other one who knows about it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jessica&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Until now! Thanks, Jessica! See what I mean, guys. One person seeing something weird is strange enough. But three people all seeing exactly the same thing! That says paranormal to me!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-45395219729095435?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/45395219729095435/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=45395219729095435&amp;isPopup=true' title='4 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/45395219729095435'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/45395219729095435'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/09/levitating-ghost.html' title='The Levitating Ghost'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>4</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-4228099856595690543</id><published>2007-08-28T10:43:00.002-05:00</published><updated>2008-10-14T14:39:51.630-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='New Jersey'/><title type='text'>The Ghost of Walt Whitman</title><content type='html'>Kevin from New Jersey sent me this hair-raising tale of his night in the cemetery where the great American poet &lt;a href="http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/126"&gt;Walt Whitman&lt;/a&gt; is buried. Whitman lived out his final years in New Jersey, and apparently still enjoys the place! Check it out:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yo dude,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Boy do I ever have a story for you! Well first, I live in New Jersey, and I'm reading your book. I live near an old cemetery that has Walt Whitman buried in it. One Halloween Night I was thinking: I wonder what it would be like if I went to the cemetery at night. So, of course, I did!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was scared walking toward Walt Whitman's grave but, well, like you, I love scary things! Now, I've been here during the day and I knew there was a huge lock on the Whitman mausoleum. Surprisingly, that night the lock was gone! And I was thinking "Ok Kevin, don't get scared. Don't get scared." Then I heard something like a loud thump coming from inside the mausoleum. But I was like, "OK, it's just a nearby car or something.  It's not really coming from inside."  Then I heard it again. Louder this time. And this time I saw the door handle on the mausoleum start moving! As I ran for my life, I heard the creak of the door, but didn't dare look back. So much for seeing a dead poet! Later I found out that his whole family is buried there, so it could have been any of them! That gave me the chills. I don't think I'll be going back again at night.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Your Fellow Lover of the Paranormal,&lt;br /&gt;Kevin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-4228099856595690543?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/4228099856595690543/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=4228099856595690543&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/4228099856595690543'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/4228099856595690543'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/08/ghost-of-walt-whitman_460.html' title='The Ghost of Walt Whitman'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-6283585121302530757</id><published>2007-08-13T13:48:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-13T13:58:27.735-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='California'/><title type='text'>Cat Ghost!</title><content type='html'>Rachael from California sent me this story about what happened shortly after her cat died:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hello, my name is Rachael and I live in California. I kind of believed in ghosts but now I really do since I saw one for myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was about a week after my cat Sally was killed by a dog next door. I was home alone and (you know how all cats have a different meow) I could hear Sally meow. I looked out the window and there she was! I ran out outside to her but there was nothing there! Then about an hour later I looked out my window again and I saw her. I knew it was her! The next day I was dropped off at my house and when I went inside I heard Sally. I went into my room and there she was laying on my bed!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was really creepy. I didn't even get another cat until a month later.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thanks for listening,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rachael :)&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Thank &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;you&lt;/span&gt;, Rachael! Listening to stories about the paranormal is what I'm all about!  :)&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-6283585121302530757?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/6283585121302530757/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=6283585121302530757&amp;isPopup=true' title='12 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/6283585121302530757'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/6283585121302530757'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/08/cat-ghost.html' title='Cat Ghost!'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>12</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-1726847052495271798</id><published>2007-08-08T11:21:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-08-08T11:36:18.756-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Maryland'/><title type='text'>Orbs in the cave, whispers in the graveyard</title><content type='html'>Sam from Maryland sent me this tale of a guided tour through a haunted town, and Sam, to answer your question, the people who sent me the stories in the book all claimed that they were true. Of course I wasn't there to experience each and every one (though as you can see in the book) I was there for a few. I believe the people who send me stories, and I trust that they are telling me the truth. Just as your story really happened to you, I believe that their stories really happened to them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's the story Sam sent me:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi, my name is Sam and I'm from Maryland. Your book is so creepy yet so fascinating. Are all those stories really true? Well, anyway, I am very superstitious and I am such a big baby when it comes to ghosts and monsters and stuff like that. So when mom signed up for a guided tour through Williamsburg, I freaked out. I made sure I brought my camera so I could snap some cool pics. When the tour guide came she introduced herself. Then, we started a tour of a lifetime. Now, this was about 3 years ago and I have a very bad memory so, I'll try to remember as much as I can. First, we started the tour off by going to a little house that is said to have ghosts. Of course there were no ghosts at 6 o'clock. Next, we went to a spooky grave that is haunted. It was already dark so it was creepy. The tour guide said that there are orbs in the cave. So, of course I had to prove it. I took some pics and I saw that there were hundreds of orbs everywhere. and some of them were even all smoky and foggy looking. Then, I started to feel a tingling sensation down my neck. There was also a video we took with my dad singing (how embarrasing). There were orbs surrounding him! I was getting creeped out. Finally we went to a graveyard. It was creepy! I could hear whispers everywhere, and no ones lips were even moving. I couldnt sleep that night and the next, but it was truly something I will never forget.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sam&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-1726847052495271798?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/1726847052495271798/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=1726847052495271798&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/1726847052495271798'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/1726847052495271798'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/08/orbs-in-cave-whispers-in-graveyard.html' title='Orbs in the cave, whispers in the graveyard'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-2292689946440037677</id><published>2007-07-09T12:22:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-23T14:58:13.083-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PARANORMAL NEWS'/><title type='text'>Finally, the truth about Roswell!</title><content type='html'>Just in time for the 60th anniversary of the UFO crash, comes a startling confession from someone who was there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Lieutenant Walter Haut was the public relations officer at the Roswell base in 1947. Haut left instructions that upon his death a sworn affidavit sealed since that time was to opened.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, Lieutenant Haut passed away and the envelope was finally opened, revealing the truth as told by an eyewitness. I'll give you a hint. It's what my buddies and I have believed all along.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check it out, UFO fans! Wow!! &lt;a href="http://www.news.com.au/story/0,23599,21994224-2,00.html"&gt;The truth about Roswell&lt;/a&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-2292689946440037677?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/2292689946440037677/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=2292689946440037677&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2292689946440037677'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2292689946440037677'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/07/finally-truth-about-roswell.html' title='Finally, the truth about Roswell!'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-3485725623606146474</id><published>2007-06-27T14:11:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-27T14:31:55.264-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PARANORMAL NEWS'/><title type='text'>Bigfoot's just a myth--NOT!</title><content type='html'>For years, people have argued about whether Bigfoot is just a myth, a figment of people's imagination, or a real life zoological animal--just a really big ape.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, now, serious scientists are planning an expedition to find the creature known as Bigfoot or Sasquatch. I wish them luck, and I'm sure the many folks who've written to me about their own Bigfoot close encounters do too!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check out this story about the &lt;a href="http://www.msnbc.msn.com/id/19443010"&gt;Bigfoot expedition&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-3485725623606146474?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/3485725623606146474/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=3485725623606146474&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/3485725623606146474'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/3485725623606146474'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/06/bigfoots-just-myth-not.html' title='Bigfoot&apos;s just a myth--NOT!'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-471768845833110606</id><published>2007-06-06T12:44:00.001-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-25T11:35:00.203-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PARANORMAL NEWS'/><title type='text'>Nessie is back!!</title><content type='html'>So, I've never been to Scotland, but I've always been into all the stuff that's been written about the Loch Ness Monster. Like our buddy Bigfoot, lots of people claim that "Nessie" (as her close friends call her) is nothing more than a legend. While lots of others claim to have seen her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Here's some cool video of a very recent sighting:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://youtube.com/watch?v=aB_c2RwpbXU"&gt;Nessie Caught On Video!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'd love to hear from anyone in Scotland who may have seen Nessie.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Have you?&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-471768845833110606?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/471768845833110606/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=471768845833110606&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/471768845833110606'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/471768845833110606'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/06/nessie-is-back.html' title='Nessie is back!!'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-3115429876909882826</id><published>2007-06-06T12:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-06-25T11:36:28.260-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='PARANORMAL NEWS'/><title type='text'>Hey, it's in a Museum, it's got to be real, right??</title><content type='html'>A museum's a place where they keep all the really cool stuff that people have created throughout the ages, right? It's not the place where you'd expect to find dragons, unicorns, and mermaids. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Well, the American Museum of Natural History in New York City has brought these creatures to their hallowed halls. Okay, not the creatures themselves, but a big exhibit about them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Check out this story about it:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.ny1.com/ny1/content/index.jsp?&amp;aid=70130&amp;search_result=1&amp;stid=120"&gt;Mythical Creatures Invade Museum!&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And here's the museum's website for more info:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;a href="http://www.amnh.org/exhibitions/mythiccreatures/"&gt;Dragons, Unicorns, and Mermaids&lt;/a&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Do you believe? You know &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I&lt;/span&gt; do!&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-3115429876909882826?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/3115429876909882826/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=3115429876909882826&amp;isPopup=true' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/3115429876909882826'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/3115429876909882826'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/06/hey-its-in-museum-its-got-to-be-real.html' title='Hey, it&apos;s in a Museum, it&apos;s got to be real, right??'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-1196827917552338612</id><published>2007-02-13T19:35:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-13T19:32:50.897-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Michigan'/><title type='text'>Television Premonition</title><content type='html'>Rachel from Michigan sent me this story:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi Jason,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It figures. A month after I get my license I wreck my brand new car! Not to mention my leg. Okay, so it’s ten years old—the car, not my leg—and it used to be my dad’s, but to me it’s new. Anyway, the car was back from the shop, but I still had two weeks to sit around the house by myself with my left leg in a cast, hobbling on crutches.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I was soooo bored! I never thought I’d say this but I really missed being in school. I mean, all my friends are there. There’s no one to IM during a boring weekday afternoon, so I’d just sit around and watch daytime TV. LAME!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then one day the really weird thing happened. I was watching some dumb soap opera on a local channel when they broke into the show with a special news bulletin. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“This is a special report,” the announcer said urgently. “An explosion has ripped through Lansing High School.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh my God!” I shouted, grabbing the remote and raising the volume.“Two students and one teacher are confirmed dead, and dozens more are injured. The fire continues to rage out of control, as firefighters from four communities battle the blaze. It is believed that the explosion took place in the chemistry lab.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I watched in horror as terrible images flashed across the screen. The school was a blazing inferno. Orange flames and thick black clouds of smoke poured from every window of the three story building.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The chem lab!” I cried, looking over at the clock. I realized with horror that if I’d been in school that day, I would have been in chem. class at that exact moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Robin! My best friend and lab partner Robin Richards was in that class room!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I snatched up my crutches and hobbled across the living room. Where did I leave my cell phone! Got to call Robin! Oh my God, how can this happen? Where’s the damn phone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I looked over at the kitchen table. Right where I had left it. A couple more crutch hops and I was there. I hit Robin’s cell number on speed dial. Come on, come on, why do they call this stupid thing speed dial!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It’s ringing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Pick up, pick up, pick—&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--clik—&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hey, it’s Robin. Tell me something exciting. Call ya back. Bye!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--beeeeeeep—&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Robin, I heard about the explosion,” I practically screamed into the phone. “Tell me you’re all right. Please tell me you’re all right!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I clicked off and stared down at the phone. Like that was gonna make Robin call me back. I had to do something. I couldn’t just sit around here while my school burned down. Looking back, maybe it was crazy idea. Maybe I should have called the school. But I wasn’t thinking straight. All I could think about were those poor kids in my chem class.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;All I could think about was Robin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grabbed my car keys and hobbled out the front door. I sat behind the wheel of my car with my crutches in the seat beside me, and my left leg in its cast extended next to the brake. The doctor told me not to drive until the cast came off, but this was clearly an emergency situation.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I turned the key and the car started a wave of fear rushed through me. This was the first time I had been in the car since the accident. My mind flashed back to the impact, the horrible crunching sound, the screeching brakes, my own voice screaming, the searing pain in my leg. It all rushed back to me, mixing with the terror and worry I now felt for Robin and everyone else in my school. I burst into tears. But I had to go. I slipped the car into reverse and backed out onto the street.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m only five minutes away, I thought, as I put the car into drive and stepped gently onto the gas pedal, my right hand shaking on the steering wheel, my left hand holding my left leg off to the side. I’ll make it. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With one hand on the wheel I started the trip to my school that I had made hundreds of times before. But somehow it all felt strange, as if I’d never driven on these roads. The houses and stores zipped past. I knew them all like I knew my own name. But today they looked different.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My brain began to argue with itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She’ll be all right. Everyone’ll be all right. How can she be all right? They said that the fire was raging out of control!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I forced myself to focus on driving.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I approached the school I peered into the sky, expecting to see smoke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The sky was clear.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I rolled down my window, listening for sirens.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Everything was quiet. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Is it all over already? Is the whole school gone?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swung around the final bend to school and held my breath. I bit my lip. There it is!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There it is? All of it. Perfectly normal. No smoke. No flames. No nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Was I losing my mind? Did I fall asleep and dream that TV report?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pulled up to the curb right in front of the school building and left the car beside the “No Parking Anytime” sign. Struggling out, I reached back in for my crutches and made my way slowly into the building. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The rubber tips of my crutches squeaked against the linoleum floor and the bottom of my cast clunked hollowly as I rushed toward the chem lab.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They’re gonna think I’m nuts. They’re gonna say I fell asleep and dreamt this, or that I’m bored and this is some stupid prank, or—&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stopped short at the door to the lab and peered through the glass.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Empty!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lab was fine, but no one’s in the class? What is going on here?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spun around on my cast leg and shrieked! I was face to face with Robin.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh my God, you’re alive!” I cried, dropping my crutches and throwing my arms around her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yah, Rache,” Robin replied, returning the hug before picking up my crutches. “I didn’t die, I still come to school even when you don’t. Which brings me to…what are you doing here?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t know,” I said. “I had this crazy dream, and—I better get home before my mom does. She’ll go nuts if she finds out I drove!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Come on,” Robin said. “I’ll help you to your car.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Weren’t you supposed to be in chem lab?” I asked as we reached the front door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Hello! Today’s Thursday, not Tuesday. Lab’s fourth period, not third,” Robin said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She was right. It was Thursday. Since I’d been home, the boring days just blended into each other. Half the time I didn’t know what day it was.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I was just getting to lab a couple of minutes early when I saw you and your four &lt;br /&gt;legs.” Robin explained.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She helped me down the stairs and opened my car door for me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;--briiiiiiing!!—&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The bell sounded.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“And now I’m late,” she said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sorry I—”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;KA-THOOOM!!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A thunderous blast exploded from the school. The ground shook and I fell against my car as glass, steel and brick rained down on the parking lot.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I screamed. Flames poured from the far end of the building where Robin and I had stood just five minutes earlier.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh my god!” Robin cried. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The front door burst open and panicked, screaming kids poured from the school, followed by thick black smoke.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Robin and I huddled across the street, watching the terrible chaos. I searched the crowd for the other students in my chem. class. I spotted a few of them, but some were missing. I could have done more to save them if I’d only trusted whatever power had shown me this tragedy in advance.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Now kids were dead—kids I knew. I knew this wasn’t my fault, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that I might have saved some lives, somehow. That’s why I wrote to you, Jason. That’s why I need to figure out what happened to me. It had never happened before. And now I live in fear that it may happen again. And if it does, what will I do?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Rachel&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-1196827917552338612?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/1196827917552338612/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=1196827917552338612&amp;isPopup=true' title='9 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/1196827917552338612'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/1196827917552338612'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/02/television-premonition.html' title='Television Premonition'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>9</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-2367546985597090327</id><published>2007-02-13T19:29:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-13T19:30:22.515-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='South Carolina'/><title type='text'>Lizard Man</title><content type='html'>My IM buddy MonsterMavin sent me this story about Dave from South Carolina:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jason, check this out:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;One night I had just finished working the late shift at a local restaurant. Driving the familiar winding road through the swampland that surrounded my home town of Bishopville, South Carolina, I fought to keep my eyes open, battling the sleepiness I always faced after an eight-hour shift. I didn’t know that in a few minutes I would be more awake than I had ever been in my life.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;After six months on the job, I felt as if my car could drive the route back home itself. Then, suddenly—BLAM!— my right front tire blew. My car skidded out of control on the damp road beside Scape Ore Swamp. My eyes opened wide as I tapped the brakes and eventually got the car under control. Bouncing to the side of the road, I was thankful there were no other cars out there or I surely would have caused an accident.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still riding the adrenaline rush, I pulled out my flashlight, jack and spare tire, and began to change the flat. When the car was jacked up and I was struggling to loosen the lug nuts, I heard a low squishing sound from the swamp just off the road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;thwish thwish thwish&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It sounded like large flippers slapping though the soupy mud. But who would be out here in the middle of the night, tromping around this mosquito-infested marsh? I cast my flashlight in the direction of the sound but saw nothing.  Turning back to the tire, I managed to loosen a nut when I heard the sound again—louder this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THWISH THWISH THWISH&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Peering into the darkness, I caught a glimpse of two glowing red dots. I’ve got to be imagining this, I reassured myself.  I was just remembering all the scary swamp stories my older brother told me when I was a little kid.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pulled the flat tire off the car, and slipped the spare on, relieved that I had remembered to fill it with air the last time I checked all my tires. As I spun the final lug nut back into place I heard the squishing sound again, accompanied by a thin hiss.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Again, I swept the beam toward the swamp, and that’s when I saw it. At first it appeared to be a tall man in a long green coat. But as my eyes adjusted, I saw a seven and half foot tall lizard, walking upright on two powerful legs. Its skin was green and brown. Every inch of its body was covered by thick scales. I looked down at the creature’s three-toed, webbed feet, twitching in the mud. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The monster hissed again, and stared directly at me. The lizard man’s head was huge, and its bulging froglike red eyes glowed like coals in the flashlight beam. But this was no frog. Its broad mouth opened to reveal two rows of razor-sharp teeth. The three thick fingers of its hand were also webbed, and ended in long sharp black claws. Brown, brackish liquid oozed from the side of its mouth, as if the creature had been formed from the very muck of the swamp itself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Okay, focus.  Get the car down and get the heck out of here…NOW!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I fumbled with the lug wrench. The monster continued toward me, hissing as it increased its pace.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yanking hard on the wrench, tightening the last nut, I chucked the wrench into my trunk, then frantically pumped the jack to lower the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Come on! Hit the ground! Hit the ground!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Done! &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned and found myself staring at the lizard man’s legs!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I yanked the jack from beneath my car, holding it front of me, trying to figure out some way to use the tool to defend myself.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;An overpowering stench of rotten swamp poured forth from the creature, stinging my nostrils and bringing tears to my eyes. The beast hissed and lunged toward me, swiping at me with its scaly clawed hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I instinctively raised the jack, smacking the lizard’s hand away. The creature howled in pain, then stepped back. It’s like somebody crossed a frog with a huge bear, I thought. Now that sounds funny, but it wasn’t then. I realized that my defensive maneuver with the jack had bought me only a few precious seconds.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I jerked open the car door, threw the jack in the backseat, and jumped inside. Reaching out to close the door, I felt a sharp sting in my wrist. I looked down and saw the lizard man’s slimy but powerful hand wrapped around my left wrist, its claws digging into my skin. The creature stood outside my door, hissing and drooling. Its disgusting stench made me nauseous and I felt my stomach tighten.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gripped the steering wheel tightly with my right hand as the beast began pulling me from the car. I didn’t want to die on a lonely road, dragged to a watery grave in the stinking quagmire of Scape Ore Swamp.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My eyes scanned the dashboard frantically for any kind of weapon. I spotted a pen in the change holder between the seats. With no time to think I released the steering wheel and grabbed for the pen.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Got it! I felt myself being pulled from the car. Whipping my right hand across my body, I drove the point of the pen into the creature’s arm. The beast snarled in pain, then let go! Tugging my door shut, I turned the key and the engine roared to life—just as the lizard man grabbed my door handle. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Punching the button to lock all the doors, I stepped hard on the gas and pulled away. In my side view mirror, I was shocked to see the lizard man running after me.&lt;br /&gt;I knew it could never catch me. I took a deep breath, looking down at my throbbing, bleeding left wrist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I was wrong about the Lizard Man.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I glanced at my mirror. The monster was catching up. Even as I accelerated, the creature gained on me. Moving closer and closer, its face now filled the mirror. The creature’s arms and legs blended into a green blur, lit by the moonlight. And then, the lizard man vanished from the mirror. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;THUMP!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was on the roof! Black claws edged over the windshield, digging into the roof, trying to peel it open like a can of sardines. I swerved hard to the left, then back to the right, trying to shake the creature off. Its foot slipped from the roof at one point and slammed down on the side view mirror, snapping it from the car. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I spotted a diner just ahead. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;People! I thought. Maybe someone here can help me!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was early morning but about a dozen cars filled the parking lot. I wasn’t sure what anyone else could do against this beast, but I at least I wouldn’t die alone!&lt;br /&gt;Slamming on my brakes I turned into the lot, scattering a large group of people who had just gotten off a bus.  As I skidded to a stop, the Lizard man tumbled off my car, hitting the blacktop hard, then rolling back onto its feet. It released the sickening hiss I had heard back at the swamp and charged toward the crowd.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Panicked screeches filled the parking lot as people scattered in all directions.&lt;br /&gt;A man dropped his cell phone, which began ringing as it bounced across the blacktop. He started chasing after it, then thought better and turned and dashed toward the diner. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A woman shrieked in fear, threw her backpack to the ground, and started running.&lt;br /&gt;Several people bolted into the woods behind the parking lot. A few turned back to the bus.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Big mistake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lizard Man grabbed the back end of and the bus and began shaking it violently. The people who were heading for it stopped and turned in the opposite direction.&lt;br /&gt;The beast hissed again, then headed full speed for the front door of the diner! The customers inside stared in terror at the huge creature racing toward them. They began scrambling toward the back of the building.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There must be a back exit, I thought, thankful the creature seemed to have forgotten about me, but now desperately hoping everyone else would escape its wrath. After all, I was the one who had brought it here. I had put so many others in danger. What was I thinking?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;By the time the Lizard Man crashed through the locked front door, the diner had emptied completely. In a rage, it ripped up tables that were bolted to the floor and flung dishes in every direction. As I grabbed my cell phone to dial 911 I watched as the creature smashed a full carafe of coffee with its fist.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The Lizard Man howled in anguish as the scalding liquid seared the scaly skin of its arm, which bubbled and oozed. The monster exploded through a window on the side of the building, and vanished into the darkness. Its horrible hissing faded from the morning air and people crept out from their hiding places.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;They surveyed the damage and tended to those in shock, but I was too exhausted to even talk to anyone. I headed for home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I finally arrived, I was shaken up and bleeding, but at least I was alive.  After cleaning my cuts and scrapes, I went back outside to check my car. The side view mirror was gone and the roof was carved with long deep grooves. To think it all started with a simple flat tire.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My wrist would heal in a few days, but one thing was for certain. As long as that thing was still out there, I was going to find a new route home!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dave&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-2367546985597090327?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/2367546985597090327/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=2367546985597090327&amp;isPopup=true' title='3 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2367546985597090327'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2367546985597090327'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/02/lizard-man.html' title='Lizard Man'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>3</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-654357451778209915</id><published>2007-02-13T19:22:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-13T19:27:46.205-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Oklahoma'/><title type='text'>Helping Hand</title><content type='html'>This story was sent to me by Robin from Oklahoma&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Jason,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My mom was working the late shift and called to ask me to pick up my 11-year-old brother, Jeff.  Christmas was coming and Mom was trying to put in as much overtime as she could.  I didn’t mind being Jeff’s chauffeur if it helped Mom.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I should be home by the time you and Jeff are getting ready for school tomorrow,” she said.  “Make sure he’s got his backpack with him when you pick him up, okay.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sure, Mom.” I said.  “See you tomorrow.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’d made plenty of trips to shuttle Jeff to and from movies or soccer practice. This cold evening, Jeff and a bunch of his friends had gone bowling.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I drove the forty-five minutes from home to the bowling alley (why does everything have to be so far apart in Oklahoma?), I couldn’t help thinking of the prom, so many months away.  I needed a lot more babysitting jobs if I was going to save up enough for the dress I wanted, not to mention the jewelry, tanning sessions, and shoes.   As I started to make a mental budget, I got discouraged.  As I drove along narrow two-lane roads lined on either side by high banks of snow, the strapless pink dress I hoped to wear come springtime felt a million dollars away.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;When I arrived at the bowling alley Jeff and his friends were in the final frame of their last game. I hung out with a couple of my friends who worked at the snack bar.  We gossiped a little and talked about the huge winter storm that was supposed to hit the next morning.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The kids soon finished bowling.  My friends’ manager was hovering around the cash register, which meant they were going to get in trouble soon if we didn’t stop talking.  Jeff and I each said our goodbyes and headed for home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“How’d you do?” I asked once we were in the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeff shrugged. “I bowled a 110,” he said. “Pretty good. Two guys were ahead of me, though.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Normally I don’t try to engage in conversation with Jeff.  Since he’s six years my junior, we don’t have a whole lot to talk about. But I knew he liked bowling a lot.  &lt;br /&gt;“So you had fun, right?” I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah,” Jeff replied. “Especially when Matt Peters threw three gutter balls in a row. You know, he’s Mr. Perfect Form.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well that’s cool.” I said, finishing my sisterly duty for the night.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned on the radio and Jeff pulled out his PSP.  Because everything is so far apart in Oklahoma you learn to entertain yourself in the car. When we were about halfway home, I glanced in my rear view mirror and spotted a red light that appeared to be trailing us. “Oh, man,” I said, thinking it was the cops.  Following driver’s ed procedure, I started slowing down and began to pull over to the side of the road.  That’s when I looked into the mirror again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The red light was rising into the air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What the heck?  That’s no police car,” I said, looking back over my shoulder.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The red light pulled up alongside our car. This is going to sound crazy, but the light was attached to a cigar-shaped metal craft which hovered beside us, keeping pace with the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What is that?” Jeff shouted, the panic obvious in his voice. “Is that a UFO?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t know! I don’t know!” I shouted back, desperately trying to find another—any other—explanation for what we were seeing. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The craft rose above the sightline of my window. Based on the eerie red glow bathing the road around us, it now seemed to be directly above our car. Suddenly a brilliant crimson light, many times brighter than the soft glow flooded the car. Total panic overtook me as I realized I could no longer see the road. I kept my foot on the gas, though. Maybe that was stupid, but I didn’t want to stop and be at the mercy of whoever was driving that ship.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What’s happen—” Jeff started yelling before his voice was cut off suddenly. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Jeff!” I shouted, stories of UFO abductions flashing through my mind. “Jeff! Are you all right?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeff only stared straight ahead into the blinding red light coming through the windshield. His mouth hung open and his body appeared rigid, frozen in some kind of trance. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Just as I realized that there was something very wrong with my brother, I discovered that I couldn’t move. My limbs felt locked, my head forced by some outside power to turn and stare straight into the radiant scarlet light. Then a terrifying thought seized me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;If I can’t move, I can’t control the car! We’re going to crash! I felt the car drift over toward the shoulder of the road. I mentally braced for impact, certain we were about to smash into a tree or a road sign, wishing I could at least lean over to protect my little brother.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;And then the car slowed down, coming to a gentle stop on the shoulder. The bright red light faded, replaced by a spinning circle of white light. As the white light flashed through the car, I became aware of a low humming sound which grew in intensity.&lt;br /&gt;This is it! I thought. This is when they beam us up to their ship and we’re never heard from again. Or worse, they cut us open and experiment on us, then send us back, and we spend the rest of our lives completely traumatized and deformed!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But I was wrong.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Through the dull humming sound I began to hear a voice, faint at first, then growing louder. The voice was jerky, uneven, as if a foreign language were being translated into English by somebody who didn’t quite understand what he was saying.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Holding my breath, I listened as the words became clear. “Mother…in trouble,” the mechanical-sounding voice stuttered. “Mother…accident…Hiline Road…”  Then it continued. “Mother…needs…your…help…Branson’s barn.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The voice concluded with a single word: “Hurry.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The humming stopped. The bright white light disappeared, and I watched through the windshield as the space craft drifted slowly upward, its red lights fading into the star-strewn sky.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I could move again, and I turned to Jeff, who was breathing hard. I was grateful to see he could also move and speak again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Did you hear that, Robin?” Jeff asked excitedly. “Do you think something’s wrong with Mom?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Putting aside the fact that Jeff and I just lived through what I could only call a UFO encounter, I thought of Mom working the late shift.   She always drove on Hiline Road, a back road, on her way home from work. But she wasn’t due home until tomorrow morning.  She wouldn’t be on Hiline Road now.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t know,” I told Jeff, pulling back out onto the road. “Call Mom’s cell and find out.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeff tried calling but there was no signal. “We’re in a dead zone, but I’ll keep trying,” he said.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As I drove, I tried sorting through the details of what had happened. Jeff was asking me a million questions, but I ignored him. I needed to think. If someone had told me that morning that I was going to come that close to a UFO, I would have thought they were crazy. I also expected to be more upset by the experience. Now it actually seemed sort of cool. For a moment I pictured myself becoming one of those wackos who hang out by the side of the road waiting for their alien friends to return.&lt;br /&gt;But then I thought about the message.  Was it true?  Was Mom in some kind of danger?  It made no sense--she was at work.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You okay?” I asked, looking over at Jeff who had finally fallen silent.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He nodded. “A little freaked out,” he said. “Now I’m really worried about Mom.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Me, too,” I replied.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Driving quickly, I turned onto Hiline Road and sped toward Branson’s barn. “We’re getting close to the barn,” I said. “Roll down the window and look out your side.”&lt;br /&gt;Jeff rolled down his window and stuck his head out into the darkness. Just past the barn, he spotted something.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Robin!” he cried. “Stop!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I slammed on the brakes and pulled over. Jeff and I scrambled from the car. I tried not to scream as I spotted a car that had slid into a ditch off the side of the road. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It’s Mom!” I shouted, climbing down into the ditch.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The front end of the car was embedded in the far wall of the ditch. I flung open the front door and saw my mother slumped against the inflated airbag. Blood trickled down the side of her face. Groceries were scattered all over the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“MOM!” I screamed, hoping against hope that she was still alive.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gently took her hand into mine. She stirred and moaned.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“She’s alive!” I called back to Jeff. “Try the cell phone again! Call 911!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jeff ran back to the car.  “We’ve got a signal!” he yelled as he called for help.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knew I shouldn’t move her, so Jeff and I just stayed by her side, holding her hand, whispering softly that everything was going to be all right.  She moaned and managed to speak just a little.  I pieced together the fact that her manager let everyone go home early because of the approaching storm.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;A few minutes later the ambulance arrived. The paramedics carefully removed Mom from the car.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt; “It looks like cuts and bruises, and maybe a mild concussion, but no major injuries,” one of them said. “We’ll take her to the hospital for tests, but she should be fine.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I nodded, tears or relief running down my face.  I actually gave my brother a hug.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Good thing you found her,” the paramedic said as they loaded Mom into the ambulance. “This is a pretty quiet road and she could have been lying there for hours, even days. With this cold and the storm coming in she would have froze to death.  You kids saved her life.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We had a little help, I thought as Jeff and I got back into the car to follow the ambulance to the hospital.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Robin&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-654357451778209915?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/654357451778209915/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=654357451778209915&amp;isPopup=true' title='7 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/654357451778209915'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/654357451778209915'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/02/helping-hand.html' title='Helping Hand'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>7</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-4232569674418388147</id><published>2007-02-13T18:08:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-13T18:21:27.158-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Kentucky'/><title type='text'>Peering into the Past</title><content type='html'>Dan from from Kentucky sent me this one:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi Jason,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m eleven. My sister is nine. We live with my mom and dad in a small house in Louisville, Kentucky. About a month ago, Karen started telling me that she believed there was a monster living under her bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Give me a break!” I said, being my usual compassionate big brother. “That stuff is for babies. When are you going to grow up?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Danny!” she whined. “I heard a strange noise. I was sure it came from under my bed, so I stuck my head down there and it was really weird. It was like I was looking at a picture or a movie of another place. It was all white and snowy, and someone was walking through the snow. Then I saw the monster, like a big dog, growling. And—Danny, stop laughing at me!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I couldn’t help it. It just sounded so weird. My sister was pretty frightened by scary movies and stuff like that, and I knew she had a vivid imagination, but this was way wilder than anything I had ever heard her say. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“If I see it again, can I knock on the wall?” she asked, not letting it go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Sure,” I said smiling. This was the signal we had used since we were little kids. Whenever Karen got scared at night, she would knock on the wall and I’d come into her room until she wasn’t scared anymore.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next night, I was awakened by a knock on my wall. I slipped from bed and headed quietly into Karen’s room. Our folks were downstairs with some people and I didn’t want them to know that we were still awake.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stepping into Karen’s room I found her leaning over the edge of her bed. She tightly gripped the blanket which draped over the side. “It’s back!” she whispered, as if the creature she believed to be under her mattress might hear her.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I knelt down beside the bed. “Go ahead,” I said, rolling my eyes.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She pulled the blanket up, then hung her head over the edge of the bed. I flattened myself onto my stomach and stuck my head under the mattress.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I’m only 11 but this was the weirdest thing that has ever happened to me. It’s hard to explain. It was as if the small space between the bottom of the mattress and the floor had opened up into a vast arctic scene. It was not so much like watching a movie, but more like poking my head through a hole into another place.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With Karen’s head upside-down next to mine, I watched as a man in what looked like a soldier’s uniform trudged through the snowy wasteland.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“This is exactly what I saw last night,” Karen explained. “It’s like a movie that keeps playing. The monster should show up any second now.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sure enough, a few moments later we heard growling, then suddenly a four-legged beast came tearing through the snow. It had thick white fur and long teeth. Its face and teeth were drenched in blood, fresh from a kill.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It’s a wolf!” I said. “An artic wolf.” I’m an animal lover and I can identify animals from around the world, and this one was pretty obvious.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The soldier stared at the beast, terror in his eyes. And then the weirdest thing happened. The wolf turned and looked right at me! I swear! Our eyes locked and the wolf snarled as if it meant to charge right at me. Then it turned back and attacked the soldier, teeth sinking into the man’s leg.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Make it stop, Danny!” Karen screeched.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I yanked the covers down to cover the scene.  When I peeked again a second later, the snowy scene was gone. There were only toys under her bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I heard someone downstairs sobbing. It didn’t sound like my mom or dad, so I went back to bed. The next morning I asked my mom if everything was okay, and she explained to me that her visitors were sad because their son had died.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About a week later, my folks had company again, a woman I didn’t know. Then, an hour after I went to bed, Karen knocked on the wall. I scooted into her room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It’s happening again, Danny!” she cried, pointing under the bed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ducked my head under and once gain peered into some kind of opening. I saw a man running down a dark, deserted, rainy street. It looked like a city, but it was hard to tell. He kept looking back over his shoulder as he ran.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly another man came running onto the scene. He was much larger than the first man. His brown hair was disheveled and he had a wild look in his eyes. The second man quickly gained on the first and within a few seconds had caught up to him, tackling him to the ground.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What’s going on?” Karen asked. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Shh!” I said. “Just watch.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The larger man had the first man pinned to the ground. He reached into his long overcoat and pulled out something that flashed in the streetlight.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“He’s got a knife!” Karen whispered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Down came the knife, again and again, into the first man’s chest. It made a sickening slicing sound with each stab.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“He killed that guy!” Karen shouted as tears poured down her face. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The murderer stopped as if he had heard Karen’s shout. He turned and looked right at us, the bloody knife still dripping in his hand.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Now you two kids didn’t see anything, did you?” he asked, standing up. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Danny, he sees us!” Karen whispered, grabbing the sleeve of my pajamas.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still clutching the knife in his black gloved hand, the murderer slowly walked towards us, his boots sloshing in the puddles on the pavement.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I asked you a question!” he shouted, picking up his pace, coming closer. His eyes glowed with rage. “Did you see anything?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His body filled the entire portal now as if he were just a few inches away. We froze in terror.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What’s the matter?” he snarled. “Cat got your tongue?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karen grabbed my other arm. The killer kept coming. I could feel the dampness of the rain and the power of his anger pouring through the portal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well maybe I’ll just cut out that tongue!” he barked, reaching through the opening and grabbing Karen’s hand!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Help!” she screeched. “Get him off! Get him off!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The killer’s arm and shoulder were now in the room. His huge hand closed around Karen’s wrist. Then he began pulling her toward the portal.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You’re coming with me!” he shouted.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Danny! Help me!” Karen screeched hysterically&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I scooted behind her, wrapped my arms around her waist and yanked with all my strength. We both fell backwards onto the bedroom floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then the portal snapped shut.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Ahhhhh!!!” Karen screamed, completely freaked out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Stop screaming!” I yelled. “He’s gone!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Karen stopped, but a horrified scream continued from downstairs.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What’s going on?” Karen shouted, running for the door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She yanked open her bedroom door, and jumped back, startled. A large figure filled the doorway, then stepped into the room.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Dad!” I said, relieved. “What’s going on down there?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I thought the screaming might frighten you,” he said, as Karen climbed up into his arms. “I came to check on you guys. That’s a client of ours downstairs. She’s very upset.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What kind of client?” I asked.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Do you know what a séance is?” Dad asked me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Well, duh, Dad, everyone does,” I replied. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Your mother and I conduct séances for people trying to find out what happened to missing loved ones,” Dad explained. “We just helped our client find out that her husband was killed. The poor woman’s so shook up. We were able to identify the murderer as a large man with wild eyes and red hair.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Actually, Dad,” I said. “His hair was brown.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dan&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-4232569674418388147?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/4232569674418388147/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=4232569674418388147&amp;isPopup=true' title='6 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/4232569674418388147'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/4232569674418388147'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/02/peering-into-past.html' title='Peering into the Past'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>6</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-2224104911348475132</id><published>2007-02-13T17:56:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-13T17:55:00.121-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='Connecticut'/><title type='text'>Dudleytown: The Scariest Place in New England</title><content type='html'>This story was sent to me by Doug from Connecticut:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Hi Jason,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My name is Doug. I read on your website about haunted buildings, curses on families, and attacks by strange creatures. Well, there’s an evil forest in northwestern Connecticut that combines all of those things. My buddy Andy and I knew about the 400-year-old family curse, the weird lightning strikes, sightings of dark spirits, glowing lights, weird creatures, bizarre phenomena of nature, madness, death, insanity, and lives destroyed by the Dudleytown forest. We just never thought it would happen to us. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Andy and I grew up in Ellsworth, Connecticut the best of buds.   Every Halloween we talked about spending the night in the creepy Dudleytown forest. When you grow up in Connecticut you get used to playing in the woods, but everyone talked about how there was something sinister about the trees up around Dudleytown, and the place was always dark.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Of course, no one ever actually spent Halloween there. Even after Andy and I were in high school and could drive, fear always won out over our curiosity.  Well, fear and girls. You ever notice how girls like to wear skimpy outfits on Halloween, even when it’s really cold out? &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So our senior year finally came. We were each going to different colleges and this would be our last Halloween together for a while.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It’s now or never, dude,” I said to Andy about two weeks before Halloween. “Are we really going to do this, or are we going to spend the rest of our lives e-mailing each other about how we really should have done it that year when we had the chance?”&lt;br /&gt;Andy rubbed his chin for a moment, probably weighing the choice between really cool bragging rights and hanging out with our friends.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah,” he replied shrugging. “This is our last shot. Let’s go for it!”&lt;br /&gt;Bragging rights won.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Andy and I ended up taking his car on Halloween night and headed out towards Dudleytown.  I think back on that moment every day.  My life would be completely different now if I had just gone to a party or maybe TP’ed someone’s house instead.  &lt;br /&gt;The sun was starting to set as we drove the half-hour to Dark Entry Road.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Dark Entry Road! Man, if this were in a movie, people would be laughing. Could it be any more obvious?” Andy laughed.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It is cursed, you know.  It’s the only forest I’ve ever heard about that’s actually evil,” I said. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah, I know.  All that stuff in England. Henry VIII was pissed Edmund Dudley tried to overthrow him so he chopped off his head and cursed the whole Dudley clan.  Horror!  Death!  Insanity!  Hemorrhoids!” Andy joked.  “One of the Dudley kids thought he could escape the curse by coming here in the 1700s but he just brought the curse with him.” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Remember the dude who bought the place after the Dudleys bolted?  His whole family got some weird sickness and croaked.  Then there was the general in the Revolutionary War whose wife got struck by lightening…even though it was a clear sky!  That dude went mental.” I said, trying to remember even more crazy stories we’d heard over the years.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Oh, oh!” Andy cried, “We’re leaving out Dr. Clark’s nutcase wife!  Remember he bought the place in the 1920s?  He had to go into New York City for two days and when he got back, his wife was flipping out about that dark creature who ran out of the forest and attacked her. She went mental, too and they put her in the nut house!”&lt;br /&gt;“Duh, lady, don’t you know Big Foot when you see him?” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Even though we continued to laugh at all of the horror stories we knew, I was starting to get a little scared.  I couldn’t admit it to Andy, but by the time we reached Dark Entry Road—which, despite its name is actually an idyllic-looking lane that leads into Dudleytown forest—I was thinking about bagging the whole idea and turning back.  Unfortunately for us, Andy parked the car and started to get out.&lt;br /&gt;“Doug, come on.  Let’s go.” he said.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“We could just go back and hang out with Mike and Jordan instead.  Tell them we got lost on the way.” I offered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What? Dude, ‘A,’ we drove all the way here and two, we would get so much crap from them about being complete chickens.  I’m gonna see me some DEMONS TONIGHT, BABY!!!!” he yelled.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;There was no use arguing with him. His reputation was at stake.  Now we had to go through with it.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We left the car at the start of the road since we’d told everyone we’d go into the forest on foot, with nothing to protect us except our own wits. The sun was dropping low in the sky. It was starting to get dark.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Almost at once I noticed the total lack of sound. Whereas a second before I could hear the wind in the trees, birds chirping, and the scurrying of squirrels and chipmunks among the fallen leaves, now, nothing. Not a peep. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Did it suddenly get colder?” Andy asked, turning up his collar and zipping his jacket up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Now that you mention it,” I replied. “The temperature did seem to drop when we stepped in here.  And is it just me or is there no sound whatsoever?  Where’s the wind?  Why don’t I hear animals?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“They’re probably all POSSESSED!  M’uh a ha ha ha ha!” Andy shouted, doing the world’s worst Count Dracula impression.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We continued on in silence.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;About half a mile in we heard a weird scratching noise behind us.  We looked around but couldn’t see anything.   &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What’s that?” Andy whispered tensely, pointing to the ground behind them.&lt;br /&gt;There, carved into the soft dirt were the words: “NEVER RETURN…SATAN!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Shut up.  You just did that on the ground.  I’m not a moron.” I said, punching Andy in the arm. “The Satan part is a little over-the-top, man.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Doug,” Andy said seriously, “You and I both heard that noise and I’ve been standing right next to you the whole time.  I didn’t do that, dude.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Fine,” I said, “Someone put that there to freak out people like us who were coming here to check it out.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t know,” said Andy. “It looks like it was only drawn there a minute ago, like it was just scratched into the ground. Look at the piles of dirt around each letter. If this had been here for a while, they would have blown away in the wind.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Come on,” I said, actually surprised to find myself being the brave one. “There are supposed to be some ruins of old Dudleytown houses at the end of this road. Maybe we can spend the night there.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As we left Dark Entry Road and entered the dense forest, the final crimson rays of sunlight faded to gray behind the stone foundation of an eighteenth century house. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“There’s nothing left of this place but some stones,” Andy said, peering over the edge of the foundation. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Suddenly a white circle of light moved across the trees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Don’t turn the flashlight on yet,” I said. “Let’s wait until it’s really dark.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Uh, Doug, I-I didn’t turn on my flashlight,” Andy stammered. “Did you?”&lt;br /&gt;I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“No,” I whispered.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Then what’s that?” Andy said pointing at three white glowing orbs dancing among the trees.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Not waiting for my reply, Andy took off, running deeper into the woods. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Wait for me, dude!” I shouted, following my friend. I’ve got Satan telling me never to return and now weird orbs flying around. Now was not the time for the two of us to separate.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Andy stopped running and I practically crashed into him. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“It’s really dark,” Andy said, trying to catch his breath. “I’m going to put my flashlight on so we can find our way back.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“What about those white floating things?” I asked nervously.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I don’t see them any more,” Andy replied, clicking on his light. “I think we should head back.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Yeah,” I agreed. “We’re totally telling Mike and Jordan we got lost.  I don’t care how much grief I get. Now let’s get the heck out of here.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Andy’s eyes suddenly opened wide. Looking down, he began grabbing at his shirt and pants. “Doug, get them off of me!” he shouted. “Get them off!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shined my light along Andy’s body but I saw nothing.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Get what off of you?” I asked, alarmed by the terror in my friend’s eyes. “There’s nothing on you, Andy!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“The bugs!” Andy screamed, clawing at his clothes, his face contorted into a mask of horror. “They’re crawling all over me. Get them off of me!  THEY’RE EATING ME ALIVE!  DOUG, HELP!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“They’re not real, Andy!” I screamed, recalling stories I had heard about people in Dudleytown suffering from hallucinations. “It’s just in your mind!  Dude, you have to focus on me.  Andy, focus!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Andy dropped to his knees and began yanking at his own hair. He actually tore a bloody clump of hair from his head. “Get them off!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I grabbed my friend by his shoulders, forced him to his feet, and shook him hard. “Andy!” I shouted, slapping him right in the face. “Andy!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Andy jerked backwards, pulling away. Breathing hard, he looked down the length of his body. “Oh my God, Doug,” Andy cried. “It was so real. I saw big, disgusting bugs crawling over every inch of my body. I felt them!  I felt them bite me!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He clawed at his clothes looking for marks; looking for the creatures that had just tormented him.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Come on,” I said, grabbing Andy’s arm and handing him a bandanna to hold against his bleeding head. “We’re leaving before anything else happens.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;With each step, the gnawing sense of doom inside me grew. Someone…no, something, was watching us.  Waiting.  Small shapes darted through the darkness on either side of us. The perfect silence was broken by high-pitched shrieks echoing in the trees. I felt my chest tightening as we retraced our path. Andy clutched his head and breathed hard.  I wanted to assure him that we’d be okay.  Dark Entry Road was just ahead, I noticed, as we approached the foundation.  I was about to say, “We’re going to get home safe,” but before I could speak a flash of movement caught my eye.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We both froze in terror at the sight of a swirling back shape rising from the foundation. The expanding blotch changed shape, its inky blackness so thick it stood out against the night sky. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I can’t move,” Andy groaned through his clenched jaw. “I’m trying to force one leg to go in front of the other, but I just can’t move.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Before I could respond, the shape enveloped me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I gasped for breath.  The very life was being sucked from my body. I was about to pass out when images began to fill my mind.  Mutilated, maggot-filled corpses lay strewn around me.  I knew I would soon be one of them.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then I blacked out.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Soft rays of sunshine woke me. Andy was sprawled out on the forest floor next to me.  The corpses were gone.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Andy?  Wake up,” I shook him gently.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;He opened his eyes with a start and jumped to his feet.  Without saying a word to me, he headed towards Dark Entry Lane.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Wait up!” I shouted.  Andy turned and peered at me with fear. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Never return,” he croaked.  Those were the last words my best friend ever spoke to me.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;We made it back home that morning.  We had spent the night in Dudleytown and lived. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But from that day on, Andy never spoke another word to anyone.  The doctors at the institution have tried shock treatment to see if he’ll even cry out in pain, but they say he’s like a walking dead man.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As for me, pre-Dudleytown, I had always been a pretty happy kid.  Post-Dudleytown’s another story.  The voices and the visions start each day around sunset and torture me through the night.  Yeah, I don’t have to be in a mental hospital like Andy, but I don’t exactly get out much.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Why didn’t I just stay away?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Doug&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-2224104911348475132?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/2224104911348475132/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=2224104911348475132&amp;isPopup=true' title='21 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2224104911348475132'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2224104911348475132'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/02/dudleytown-scariest-place-in-new.html' title='Dudleytown: The Scariest Place in New England'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>21</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-2437794955756623035</id><published>2007-02-13T17:33:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-02-13T17:52:56.720-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='California'/><title type='text'>The Ghost in Aisle 15C</title><content type='html'>Here's a story sent to me by Amanda from California:&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Dear Jason,&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;My name is Amanda Walker. A friend told me about your site.  You have stories about hauntings on there but nothing like mine. I still have nightmares about what happened to me the summer after my sophomore year in high school.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a job at a large toy store in Sunnyvale. I’m not even sure where you’re from, Jason, but Sunnyvale probably wouldn’t fit your image of California. There aren’t any palm trees or beaches or celebrities driving around in convertibles. It’s pretty much just a regular boring suburb. Anyway, the store was pretty close to my house and since I’m a vegetarian, it beat working at McDonald’s, my other great summer-job offer.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The creepy stuff started on my first day. The other kids working at the store told me that all new employees started over in aisle 15C, as a kind of initiation. I just shrugged.  “Whatever. Doesn’t matter to me.” Hey, I was only going to be there for two months. I could deal with some lame pranks.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;So I got to work, stacking boxes and boxes of dolls onto the shelves. Bo-ring! About ten minutes into it, though, I felt someone tap me on the shoulder.  I figured someone was going to give me something else to do, or maybe even ask  me if  I wanted to join them for lunch, since it was my first day and I didn’t know anybody. I turned around, but no one was there.  I went back to my work, and then it happened again.  I was positive I felt a finger tap my shoulder, but again, nobody was anywhere near me.&lt;br /&gt;All right, who’s the comedian?  I thought. Is this your version of “initiate the rookie?”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I went back to stacking when suddenly a blast of cold, rank-smelling air hit me right in the face. Whoa!I thought, coughing and waving my hand in front of my face. Did something crawl into the air conditioning ducts and die?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I took a step back and the temperature raised instantly, the smell of new plastic replacing the stench of rotten flesh. I was now officially freaked out!  Not wanting anyone to think I was weird, though, and mostly not wanting to get fired on my first day, I just went back to work.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I pulled over a ladder and climbed to the highest rung so I could stack dolls on the top shelf. As I reached up to put a doll in place, I felt fingers running through my hair. My hair’s pretty long and I’m kinda proud of it, so it really freaked me out to think that some stranger was touching it. Then I remembered that I was on the top rung of a ladder!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I shrieked and lost my grip on both the ladder and the doll I was holding. The doll fell to the floor and I was sure that I was about to follow.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Reaching out at the last second, my fingers gripped one side of the ladder just as my feet slipped from the rung. Struggling with all my strength, I grasped the other side of the ladder and regained a foothold. As I caught my breath, the adrenaline still coursing through my veins, I looked down at the doll that had fallen. &lt;br /&gt;The doll’s unblinking eyes stared up at me, its tiny plastic lips curled into a frown, and a small tear escaped from its left eye. “Help me,” it hissed. “Help me find Elizabeth!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The first thing I have to do is get off this ladder, I thought, fighting to hold back the wave of terror sweeping through my entire body.&lt;br /&gt;“Help me!” the doll whispered again.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stay focused, Amanda, I told myself, concentrating intensely to find a foothold on the next rung down. I lowered myself, rung by rung, at what felt like a snail’s pace. One foot after the other. That’s it, girl. Gotta get to the floor.&lt;br /&gt;And then I was down.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stepping around the doll, I hauled butt to the ladies room.&lt;br /&gt;Gotta calm down!  I thought, leaning over the sink and shaking with fear. Turning on the faucet, I splashed water onto my face, again and again. Okay, that’s better.&lt;br /&gt;I turned off the faucet and grabbed a paper towel. There’s got to be a perfectly logical explanation for all this, I thought as I patted my face dry. What that explanation might be escaped me at the moment.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Taking two deep yet shaky breaths, I headed for the door. Suddenly the faucet came on again, full blast, splashing water over the edge of the sink.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“I turned that water off!”  I screamed, as if the sink itself could offer some answer. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I stepped back to the sink and turned off the faucet. When I reached the door I heard the water come on again. I didn’t even turn around. I just ran from the bathroom.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Either someone at the store was pulling pranks on me or I was losing my mind. I kept one eye over my shoulder for the rest of the day, but nothing else happened. I finished my work and went home.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The next morning I arrived at work and looked into the eyes of my fellow employees. People nodded politely but no one gave any hint that they were aware of the creepy stuff that had gone on the day before.  If someone had been playing tricks on me, they were doing a really good job of keeping a poker face. I had almost convinced myself that I had dreamed it all when I turned, once again, into aisle 15C.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Who did this!?” I screamed, pissed beyond belief. The dolls I had so carefully stacked the day before were scattered all over the floor, as if some jerk had spent the night yanking each one from its place on the shelf.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;This little game has gone too far! I thought. I hurried down the aisle toward the employee lounge in search of my obviously demented co-workers.   I no longer cared if they thought I was crazy, or even if I got fired.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I swung around the end cap display of toy trucks and turned into aisle 14. There, spread out across the floor were about 50 skateboards arranged into letters spelling out a single word—“Elizabeth.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I turned and ran, cold sweat now pouring down my face. As I passed the toy trucks again, they came flying off the shelf, one after another.  I ducked, covering my head with my arms. The trucks slammed into me, almost breaking my wrist and elbow. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I ran, faster now, scooting past a group of large colorful rubber balls, which were all bouncing up and down by themselves. The lounge was just ahead. As I reached the door, a glint of metal caught my eye.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stopping dead in my tracks, my eyes locked on an image that made my heart stop. The picture haunts my nightmares to this day. Not more than a few feet away stood a man wearing overalls and a red flannel shirt. A brown bushy beard covered his dirty face. In his left hand he gripped an axe. Its blade dripped with fresh blood. Where his right foot should have been there was a jagged stump, bleeding all over the linoleum floor.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“Elizabeth!” the man whispered, reaching his right hand out toward me, staring me right in the eye. “Help me find Elizabeth!”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Stifling a scream, I yanked open the lounge door, ducked inside, and slammed the door shut, imagining the cold blade of the axe slicing through the door behind me. Once inside, I found a group of my co-workers staring at me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;“You lasted longer than most, Amanda,” said Todd, who had worked at the store for about five years. “I was surprised you even showed up today. But it should get better. They usually only bother the new people.”&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Still wide-eyed with fright, I managed to stammer, “Todd, what’s going on here? There is a man with an axe covered in blood right outside the door!” &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Then Todd told me the story. One hundred and fifty years ago the land on which this store was built was a working ranch. A man named Johnny Johnson, a traveling preacher, moved out to California to work as a hired hand on the ranch. He quickly fell in love with a young woman in the area named Elizabeth Yuba Murphy Tafee, only to discover that she was engaged to an East Coast lawyer. Elizabeth soon left the ranch, leaving Johnson with a broken heart. A short time after this, he accidentally cut off his right foot while chopping wood and bled to death.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;His spirit has haunted this land ever since. In the 1970s, some famous psychic named Bertha Silver held a séance at the store and made contact with the spirit of Johnson, who still pines for his beloved Elizabeth. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It turned out that everyone who ever worked at the store knew about this. Some stayed, some left. Maybe it did get better after you worked there for a while, but I wasn’t going to stick around to find out. When Todd finished his story, I rushed out of the store as quickly as I could, not daring to look and see if Johnson was still there. The rational part of my brain told me that I didn’t believe in ghosts, but the events of the past two days felt all too real.  &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No job was worth putting up with this. I decided right then and there that even though I was a vegetarian, next summer, I would take the job at McDonald’s. At least the only thing there that scared me was the food!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Amanda&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-2437794955756623035?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/2437794955756623035/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=2437794955756623035&amp;isPopup=true' title='15 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2437794955756623035'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2437794955756623035'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/02/ghost-in-aisle-15c.html' title='The Ghost in Aisle 15C'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>15</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4956173360575141400.post-2346962953215427414</id><published>2007-02-02T11:27:00.000-05:00</published><updated>2007-07-23T15:09:00.353-05:00</updated><category scheme='http://www.blogger.com/atom/ns#' term='SEND ME YOUR STORY'/><title type='text'>Welcome to the Scary States of America</title><content type='html'>My name is Jason Specter. You might be wondering how an ordinary kid like me came to be the official collector of all things weird and scary in the USA.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It's a long story. But it's one I tell, along with 50 others in my book, &lt;i&gt;The Scary States of America&lt;/i&gt;. The book contains one story from each state, stories about ghosts, aliens, monsters, and all things weird, creepy, and scary. So look for it in your favorite local independent bookstore. To find the closest one, check out &lt;a href="http://www.booksense.com/"&gt;Booksense&lt;/a&gt;. Or order it &lt;a href="http://www.amazon.com/Scary-States-America-Michael-Teitelbaum/dp/0385733313/ref=pd_bbs_sr_1/002-4522163-9307261?ie=UTF8&amp;s=books&amp;qid=1185221001&amp;sr=1-1"&gt;online&lt;/a&gt;.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;But enough about me.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I'm just as interested in including on this blog what's happened to you. Do you live in a scary state? Have you had an encounter with a ghost a UFO, Bigfoot, time travel, spirit possession or anything else really strange and terrifying? Let me know.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Send your scary story to me here at &lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;jason.paraguy@gmail.com&lt;/span&gt; (tell me your first name and what state you live in) and I'll include it for everyone to read. Because if there's one thing I've learned as I've traveled the country and collected scary stories from my e-mail, IM, and paranormal blogging buddies it's that there are tons of amazing stories out there. Meanwhile check out the stories people have already sent me, some of which are in my new book, &lt;i&gt;The Scary States of America&lt;/i&gt;. Just click on a state here on my blog and read about the paranormal stuff going on in that scary state. So many people have been touched by the paranormal...how about you?&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't wait to read your stories.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Jason.&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4956173360575141400-2346962953215427414?l=scarystates.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/feeds/2346962953215427414/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=4956173360575141400&amp;postID=2346962953215427414&amp;isPopup=true' title='46 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2346962953215427414'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4956173360575141400/posts/default/2346962953215427414'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://scarystates.blogspot.com/2007/02/welcome-to-scary-states-of-america.html' title='Welcome to the Scary States of America'/><author><name>Jason Specter</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/00583418589283452004</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>46</thr:total></entry></feed>
